


The Power of Three

by Emachinescat



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27178744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emachinescat/pseuds/Emachinescat
Summary: An AU of the series starting from "The Mark of Nimueh," where both Arthur and Morgana find out about Merlin's magic early on. This re-imagining of the entire series explores this divergent path and shows how much fate and destiny can change with the power of three. Now: The Mark of Nimueh - Arthur's world is turned upside down when he witnesses something that he cannot ignore.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 118





	1. The Mark of Nimueh

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I am actually making it to where Gwen's execution is not brought forward in this version of the story, to give Arthur another night to mull things over. Longer author's note after the chapter. Enjoy!

Arthur stared, slack-jawed, at his servant, who had just marched into the council room and announced that he was, in fact, the sorcerer who had cured Gwen's father.

This couldn't be.

Arthur was jolted out of his shock by the sound of his father's voice and sudden motion in front of him. He realized belatedly that the king had ordered Merlin's arrest, and the guards were dragging him away.

Arthur didn't believe Merlin in the slightest; there had to be another explanation. But in order for him to get that explanation, his servant would need to be alive, and if Arthur didn't think of something soon, Merlin would be dead by this time tomorrow. So he improvised.

"Father, please! I can't allow this - this is madness! There's no way _Mer_ lin is a sorcerer." _There isn't, is there?_

"Did you not hear him?" the king snapped, each word dipped in impatience.

Arthur scrambled for something, anything, to change his father's mind. He surfaced with a reminder that he knew would do no good even before he voiced it: "He saved my life, remember?"

He was right. His father didn't budge. "Why should he fabricate such a story?"

Frantically, Arthur fished for a reason. Why _would_ someone willingly lie about something like this, that would certainly end in his death? "As Gaius said, he's got a…" Arthur really shouldn't have started talking before he knew what he was going to say. Ultimately, he settled on, "a… grave mental disease."

Uther raised a regal eyebrow, an eyebrow that Arthur knew from personal experience meant that whatever well of patience the king was drawing from would soon be dry. "Really?"

 _What mental disease?_ Arthur could have kicked himself. He knew nothing of medicine, and certainly nothing of illnesses that affected the mind. Any moment now, the guards were going to drag Merlin away and throw him into the dungeon, in Gwen's place. Gwen would be free, and Merlin would burn.

Wait… Gwen.

It all clicked. Yes, that had to be it. Relief flooded Arthur at the revelation, but somewhere deep within he felt a stirring of disbelief. It was too simple, and if he had learned anything from having Merlin as a servant, it was that _nothing_ was simple when it came to that idiot.

"He's in love." The words tumbled out of Arthur's mouth, somehow still shocking himself - and everyone else in the room. Yes, it made sense - sort of - but did he really think his father was going to fall for -

Oh dear gods. His father was _grinning_.

Merlin, always one to make things more difficult, promptly insisted, "I am not."

"With Gwen." Arthur saw his father's eyes soften ever so slightly at the revelation. It was working!

"Yes, you are," Arthur said pointedly, mentally begging Merlin to play along. _Wait… if he's only playing along, does that mean…? No._ He couldn't think about that now.

"No way!"

Damn it, Merlin just _wanted_ to die, didn't he? Arthur ground his teeth to keep his calm and reminded the servant of the flower that Gwen had given him just yesterday.

Merlin's defense was weak at best. "I'm not in love with her!" Knowing that he'd won, Arthur slung his arm easily around the servant's scrawny shoulders and teased, "It's all right. You can admit it."

Red in the face, Merlin spluttered, "I don't even think of her like that!" He said it so insistently that Arthur was beginning to believe it. He had no doubt that the servant had noticed Gwen, thought she was pretty - her beauty, regardless of her status, was something even Arthur acknowledged - but to be in love with someone so quickly that he would _die_ for her without a second thought? Merlin hadn't even been in Camelot long enough to fall in love!

"Perhaps she cast a spell on you," Uther mused. Arthur's pulse spiked, but he relaxed as his father snickered, the council, which had been quietly watching the exchange up to this point, joining him in some relief.

Arthur mussed his servant's hair - in a patronizing way, _certainly_ not out of affection - and laughed, "Merlin is a wonder, but the wonder is that he's such an _idiot_." Looking his father dead in the eyes, he grew serious. "There's _no way_ he's a sorcerer."

His father must have been growing bored of this little game, ready to return to the business at hand, so he sobered and waved a hand in their direction. "Don't waste my time again. Let him go."

"I'll escort him out," Arthur offered hastily, and shoved Merlin out of the room.

* * *

That night, Arthur lay in bed, but sleep would not come. The conversation from the council room repeated in his mind, over and over, and Arthur found himself mentally reviewing everything Merlin had said, every movement he had made, even his facial expressions. He had been so desperate to claim that he was the sorcerer. He'd been a right pain to Arthur for the rest of the day, moody and resentful, which, as Arthur had continuously pointed out, was a rather poor way to treat someone who had just saved your life.

It had to be that Merlin was in love with Gwen. The alternative didn't make any sense. How could Merlin have _magic_? Magic was evil, after all, and Merlin was too stupid to be evil.

Something stirred deep within, a question that had assailed him on more than one occasion - most recently, when his father had sentenced Gwen to death under the accusation of starting a plague using the evidence that she _may_ have healed her father with magic. When Arthur had admitted that yes, maybe Gwen had used magic to save her father, had he thought she was evil? Absolutely not. How was it evil to go to any lengths necessary to save the people you love? And so it followed that perhaps magic, especially if people like Gwen or - gods forbid, Merlin - used it, wasn't always evil.

Arthur's chest tightened at the mere idea of going against the mantra he had heard his whole life, but once the thought manifested itself, it latched onto his every thought and wouldn't let go.

Even when he told himself that he was being ridiculous, that it was obvious that Merlin cared for Gwen and was just trying to save her, he found himself not believing it as much as he would have liked. Finally resolving that he would just keep an extra close eye on the servant for the next few days, he managed to eventually fade into a restless sleep.

* * *

Arthur had almost convinced himself that Merlin had been lying, until the servant and Morgana had approached him, insisting that there was a beast in the water supply that was the cause of the poisoning. Eager at any chance to help Gwen, whom Arthur had never truly suspected, and also suspicious of how his servant would have come to know such a thing in the first place, Arthur agreed much sooner to their request than they had expected.

The cave was cold, damp, and dark. Droplets of water meandered down the rough stone walls and reflected the torchlight as he and Morgana led the way. He tried to convince Morgana to turn back, but of course she refused.

"You could get hurt," he insisted. "And Father will have my head if something happens to you and he finds out that I put in you in danger."

Smirking, Morgana pushed past him, taunting that he would be the one to get hurt if he didn't get out of her way.

 _Girls_. Honestly.

There was no point arguing with her, though, and so he settled with griping at Merlin instead. That always calmed him down. "You'd better be right," he snapped.

Moments later, Arthur found out how right Merlin actually was.

The creature that sprang up from the water was by far the ugliest thing he had ever seen, a muddy black monster with no definable features other than its enormous, pointed teeth and dangerous talons. It glistened with water and smelled of death and decay. And it was _fast,_ much faster than the prince would have expected.

He ducked out of the way of its claws just in time, swinging his sword at the unsightly beast. Though his blade grazed the creature, it seemed completely unaffected. What the hell _was_ this thing?

Another useless hit later, and the creature disappeared into the darkness. Arthur held his torch aloft, searching the water, the floor, the ceiling. He could hear Merlin and Morgana somewhere behind him, breathing heavily.

Morgana screamed. Arthur spun around to see her cornered by the beast. She thrust her torch at it, trying to fend it off, but it was only a matter of time. Arthur started forward, sword raised despite knowing it was pointless, when something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. In the darkened edge of the cave, a flash of light … a flash of _gold_.

No, surely Arthur had imagined it. Merlin was over there, against the wall, cowering most likely. His eyes hadn't - couldn't have - turned gold.

But then, out of nowhere, on a day that was warm and still and sunny, in a cave separated from the outside by a locked door, a sharp wind whistled into the cavern. _Coincidence,_ Arthur told himself. The breeze met Morgana's flame, sharpening it into a fearsome blaze that rose unnaturally and propelled itself forward, right at the monster

Moments later, the Avanc was dead at their feet, and Arthur could deny it no longer. That had been no coincidence. Merlin had been telling the truth. He had magic.

* * *

The next few hours were such a whirlwind of activity that Arthur was not afforded much time to think on what he saw or what he was going to do about it. A weight had settled itself somewhere within his chest, though, and the physical ache of it was a constant reminder that he would have to address this soon enough.

Thankfully, after explaining the situation to his father and bringing the king to the water supply to show him evidence of the fight, the king wasted no time in summoning Tom the blacksmith and ordering guards to escort him to his daughter's cell for her release. Next was a blur of tears from Gwen, heartfelt thanks from her father, a rare proud smile from Morgana and a splitting grin from his servant, and Arthur found himself walking back to his chambers, alone, as Morgana had requested Merlin stay behind. Apparently there was something she wanted to talk to him about. Arthur was too caught up in his own worries to be curious about what it was, though.

Arthur was grateful Merlin had stayed behind, anyway. He needed time away from the servant, time to think. He knew what the law said he should do. If he didn't tell his father about Merlin's magic and the king later found out, there would be hell to pay. But could he truly sentence Merlin to death for using magic to heal Gwen's father of a deadly disease _and_ save Camelot from a fatal plague? More and more, he could not reconcile the idea of magic and evil being mutually exclusive, because Merlin had done _nothing_ but help people since his arrival in Camelot.

Damn it, why had the idiot even come to Camelot, a place where magic was punishable by death, in the first place?

The prince shook his head. That didn't matter now. He could ask Merlin later. And with that, he realized that he'd already made his decision. He wasn't going to condemn Merlin to death for magic, something that Arthur had only ever seen him use for good. Merlin was annoying, and stupid, and horrible at fighting, and he complained a lot, but he was, at his core, a good man. Arthur firmly believed this.

Still, just to be safe, he would wait and watch. Merlin didn't have to know that Arthur had seen him perform magic. Not yet. Then, if he really did have any bad intentions, he would just pretend to be a good sorcerer and Arthur would be none the wiser. No, the smart thing, Arthur decided, would be to keep an eye on things when Merlin was oblivious. That way, Arthur could be certain of what kind of a sorcerer Merlin was. Once the prince was completely satisfied that Merlin was not evil, then they would have a conversation.

A conversation that Arthur was not going to make easy on his servant in the slightest. He actually felt one corner of his mouth lift in a half-smile. Just imagining the look on Merlin's face when he found out that Arthur knew was hilarious …

When the time came, Arthur was going to have some fun with his servant, that was for sure.

* * *

Merlin, feeling as if he were floating, relief having flooded every inch of his body like a lifting breeze, went to follow Arthur, Gwen, and Tom out of the dungeons, but Morgana stopped him, her eyes serious. There was a spark in them that Merlin had never seen before. It was triumphant, excited, and something else he couldn't quite place.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Merlin," Morgana said, and the way she regarded him was as if she were seeing him for the first time, but not like she was seeing a servant, startled him. She looked at him like he was something _more_. An equal, even. This realization caused discomfort and unease to seep into his bones. Something significant was happening; he could tell. But what?

Then she spoke once more, and her words turned Merlin's world on its head: "I wanted you to know, your secret's safe with me."

It was as if he had been plunged into an icy river and a boiling cookpot at the same time. Morgana _knew_? The only people who had ever known about his magic were his mother, Will, and Gaius. And Morgana was a noble! She was Uther's ward, practically his daughter, and Uther's stance on magic was -

Her full statement finally sunk in. Still, after a lifetime of being told that he must hide, must always hide, he instinctively tried to play ignorant. "My secret?" He didn't even sound convincing to himself.

"Merlin, don't pretend," Morgana chided gently. Her red lips were curved in a gentle smile. Merlin's heart pumped more furiously. He noticed vaguely that his hands were tingling like he'd just sat on them for an hour. An odd ringing echoed in his ears. "I know what you did."

Merlin stammered, "Y-you did?"

Leaning forward conspiratorially - his heart was beating so loudly that he was certain she could hear it, too - Morgana assured him, "I understand why you don't want anyone to know."

Acceptance finally started to gain control of his thoughts as he realized that this was real, that Morgana _understood_ , that she was offering to be his confidant, to keep his secret. The realization made him giddy, and he found himself smiling widely. "Well, obviously," he choked out.

"But I won't tell anyone," Morgana promised once more. "You don't mind me talking to you about it, though?"

Pure joy buzzed through Merlin's veins. This was more than he could have ever dreamed! Someone who knew his secret, someone close to his own age! He knew he wouldn't have handled keeping his secret in Ealdor if Will hadn't found out. Now he was going to have this in Camelot, too - and a noble! The ward of the king, the Lady Morgana, wanted to talk to _him_ about his _magic_!

His voice trembled with exhilaration as he stumbled to respond. "Er… no, I, I, it's ... you have no idea how hard it is to keep this hidden! To have someone to talk to about it, other than just Gaius, it would be…" He trailed off, unable to find words suitable enough to express his euphoria. "I… just thank you."

Morgana smiled warmly. Merlin thought that she had never looked so beautiful. The wild inclination to kiss her flew into his mind, but thankfully he forced it back out almost immediately. "I've never thought magic to be evil," she admitted. "Even before Gwen was accused of it. And now, seeing that you practice it, I _know_ it cannot be evil. You are a kind person Merlin, a lover, not a fighter."

Her words made Merlin's ears and face burn and brought tears to his eyes.

"I cannot imagine how scary it must be to live in Camelot when you have magic," she mused, her green eyes clouded over for a brief moment. Then she did something totally unexpected, something that nearly sent Merlin into shock, made his limbs go completely weak, stole his breath, and made him forget how to speak at all. She stood on her tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Seeing his expression, she chuckled. "I'll leave you for now; you've had quite a shock. But perhaps I can call on you in Gaius's chambers tomorrow night and we can talk then?" Merlin registered distantly the hopeful lilt to her voice, and he managed to squeak out an agreement.

As soon as she had disappeared out of sight, Merlin's knees finally gave out on him and he collapsed into a heap on the dungeon floor. Tears fell freely. He felt a lightness, a freedom that he had never expected while in Camelot.

He did not doubt that she would keep his secret. But if she had seen him do magic in the cave, it meant that he wasn't being careful enough.

From now on, he could not be so careless. After all, he had to keep Arthur from discovering his secret at all costs.


	2. The Poisoned Chalice, Part One

Over the next two weeks, as everyone in the castle prepared for the upcoming visit from King Bayard of Mercia, Arthur watched Merlin closely, intent on discovering any more signs of magic. Whenever he wasn’t with Merlin, with his father, or training, Arthur hung around places he knew Merlin to frequent - the armory, where he polished the prince’s armor, the kitchens, where he picked up the prince’s meals and gathered the water for laundry, and the washing room, where he did said laundry. He’d also tailed him back to the physician’s chambers a couple of times and tried his best to listen at the door, but after he’d been caught by a confused Morgana one evening, most likely coming to pick up her sleeping draught, he ceased that particular exercise.

Whatever Arthur had expected to come of spying on his servant, what he discovered was certainly not it. As a whole, Merlin’s life was  _ boring _ . For some reason, after realizing that Merlin had magic, the prince had expected the servant’s private life to be more exciting. He had imagined that he would see magic at any moment Merlin thought he was alone, but surprisingly, the boy did all of his chores with his own two hands. 

Arthur did discover some things about Merlin, but none of them had anything to do with magic: Merlin hummed what sounded like off-key sea shanties when he was focused on polishing armor, he had a real love-hate relationship going on with the kitchen’s overseer (who yelled at Merlin for nicking sweet rolls but obviously took how much Merlin enjoyed them as a compliment and sometimes slipped him an extra on his way out of the kitchen), he complained to Gaius  _ a lot _ about his chores, and he fit in perfectly with the laundry maids, gabbing and gossiping like he was one of them on his way in and out of the wash room. He also fidgeted  _ all _ the time, and he paid no attention to his surroundings, which was a little concerning to Arthur, as the servant hadn’t even once seemed to even suspect that he was being watched. The prince would have to work on Merlin’s awareness over time, because that level of obliviousness would be deadly if he ever followed his master into battle.

As time passed and Arthur grew increasingly tired of paying so much attention to a servant who simply  _ refused _ to be interesting or do magic within Arthur’s line of sight, the royal was about to give up - and was even beginning to doubt what he had seen - or thought he’d seen - in the cave when Gaius sent Merlin out to pick herbs one morning when Arthur was set to be in private council with his father. Uther had canceled at the last moment, and Arthur, with free time on his hands, had managed to catch sight of his servant leaving the citadel just in time to follow him into the outskirts of the Darkling Woods.

When Merlin finally found the area he was looking for, set down his basket, and began his foraging, Arthur settled himself down a ways off between two dense bushes and waited. At first Merlin simply did his job, selectively picking herbs and the occasional mushroom and tossing them in his basket. When he had foraged the area dry, however, and still did not seem satisfied with the payoff, Arthur watched in anticipation as Merlin stiffened slightly, glanced around him furtively, and raised his right hand. Arthur’s heart drummed against his ribs, his eyes riveted to Merlin’s outstretched hand. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure he was ready to see this - what if he had been wrong about Merlin’s character and the boy was incanting a wicked spell to attack Camelot? The thought was stupid and fleeting, but still it gave him pause.

After a moment, Merlin muttered some words in a language Arthur could not understand - but that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and sent chills across his body - and the eye that Arthur could see from this angle turned a bright gold. Pale yellow light gathered around Merlin’s gangly fingers then shot like fireflies into the surrounding forest - one burst of light came so close to Arthur that it nearly touched him, and it took all of Arthur’s self-control not to leap out of the way and reveal his presence. For a moment, nothing happened. What had Merlin done? And then, something - a lot of little somethings - flew out of the trees and straight for Merlin’s basket in the middle of the clearing. With a start, Arthur realized that more herbs, leaves, and mushrooms were making a magical pilgrimage straight into Merlin’s clutches.

Relief flooded over Arthur, and he felt a bit foolish for getting so worked up. He should have expected that Merlin would be using his magic to cheat on his chores. Maybe he had a bit more self-preservation than the prince had previously thought, since he was only using magic on the tasks that took him out of the citadel, but still Arthur was concerned. If someone else was in the forest and saw Merlin - or even just the unnatural parade of various plant life - he would be in real danger. When he finally spoke to Merlin about his secret, they were also going to have a nice, long chat about what the meaning of the words  _ unnecessary risk _ was.

* * *

Even after seeing Merlin use magic in such a harmless, if lazy, manner, Arthur found that he still had his reservations and continued to delay any course of action regarding the sorcerer. He wanted to trust Merlin - he really did - but all of his life he had heard of the evils of magic, and the idea was so firmly rooted in his mind that it was hard to shake, even when he knew the truth about Merlin’s intentions.

_ I’ll keep watching a while longer, _ Arthur told himself.  _ Just to be sure. _

But he was unable to spend as much time tailing the servant in the coming days, as the visit from King Bayard was drawing close at hand. Mercia and Camelot had a bloody past, and were now suspended in a fragile cease-fire. The signing of this treaty would cement that cease-fire into something much more stable and secure. Everything had to go just right, which meant that Arthur spent most of his time now helping his father prepare. Uther was adamant that his son take part in every aspect of the visit, from the preparation to greeting the visiting dignitaries to the feast and treaty-signing. 

“You are to be king one day, Arthur, and this is a monumental moment in our kingdom,” he impressed upon his distracted son, unaware that Arthur’s thoughts were consumed with magic, what he had always thought to be true and what had come to challenge those ideas. “Arthur, are you listening to me?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then stop staring at nothing and help me draft the welcoming speech. Bayard and his entourage arrive in three days.”

Arthur forced magic out of the forefront of his mind, but still it lingered, impatiently waiting for him to finish his duties so that he could ponder on it once more.

* * *

Merlin opened the door to see Morgana on the other side, elegant fist poised to knock. “My lady,” he addressed, surprised. “I didn’t know you were coming by this evening.” Gaius was out on his rounds, and Merlin himself had been answering a sudden summons from Arthur.

Morgana smiled indulgently. “I’ve told you, Merlin, you don’t have to be so formal. We are friends now, are we not?”

Merlin felt his face grow hot. “... are we, my lady?”

Morgana rolled her eyes and squeezed past the servant and into Gaius’s chambers, the door clicking shut behind her. She turned, her light blue gown foaming about her feet like the sea at low tide. “I don’t see how I cannot call you my friend at this point, Merlin. After all, we share a secret, do we not?” Her eyes glittered like the gemstones that hung at her ears. “After all, a secret of this size cannot be shared by mere acquaintances.”

Merlin’s own lips curled upward into a sheepish smile. “I suppose you’re right, Morgana.” The name sounded natural on his tongue. 

They stood in silence for several long moments, Merlin feeling somewhat awkward while Morgana’s composure remained completely intact. Then her eyes widened with sudden realization - “I just realized that you were going out as I was coming in. Did I interrupt something? Do you need to be somewhere else?”

With her words, Merlin remembered everything that had fled from his mind at the sight of Morgana. Despite her having visited on multiple occasions now with questions about his magic, even requests that he show her some of what he could do - her eyes always alight with wonder and admiration - Merlin still didn’t know how to behave around the lady Morgana, especially when running into her so unexpectedly. She was as intimidating as she was beautiful. Other than his own mother, Merlin had never met a woman who spoke her mind so boldly and freely. She stood up for those that many nobles looked down upon, and she fought for what was right. She had accepted his magic without reservation, and had said herself that it was  _ beautiful _ . She defied Uther, not only her king but also father figure, right under his nose just by keeping Merlin’s secret, and she held no fear. Everything about her was fierce and elegant, and Merlin had no idea how he, a lowly servant who had somehow gained her respect by breaking the law, should respond to her.

All those thoughts were dashed out of his mind as her words reminded him that he had indeed been on his way out for a reason. “Oh, no,” he muttered. “Arthur’s going to kill me. He had only just sent for me.”

“At this time?” Morgana frowned. “He should be in council with Uther now.”

“He got out early, and he said there’s something important he needs to discuss with me. He’s going to kill me,” Merlin repeated fretfully.

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” She gestured to the doorway.

“We?” Merlin queried.

“Well, if Arthur truly is out for blood, you will need someone to protect you,” she teased. Her eyes glinting with mischief, she added, “Then again, I think you are perfectly capable of protecting yourself.”

Merlin blushed as they made their way down the stairwell leading from Gaius’s chambers.

“No matter,” Morgana continued. “I will escort you to his chambers regardless. I haven’t been able to give Arthur a hard time in a few days’ - his ego is surely in need of deflating, and I need a good laugh.”

Merlin himself laughed at this, and they made their way together to Arthur’s chambers.

* * *

“ _ Mer _ lin,  _ there  _ you are,” Arthur snapped when the servant knocked. “You’re late, though I suppose I should not be surprised at this point.” He noticed Morgana standing to the left of Merlin in surprise. “What are you doing with Morgana?”

Merlin opened his mouth, and it was abundantly apparent to the prince that he had no idea how to answer the question, which meant that he was definitely hiding something - apart from the obvious. It was amazing what a horrible liar Merlin was regarding everything but his magic. Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, eager to watch the secret sorcerer fumble, but Morgana swooped in and ruined his fun.

“I was on my way to call on you anyway, Arthur. I ran into Merlin on the way here.” Smirking, she asked, “Why did Uther let you out early? Did he finally realize how annoying you are?”

Arthur made a face. “Says the person who came all the way across the castle to take a weak jab at me.”

Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “Actually, I was wanting to ask you a question about the welcoming ceremony tomorrow, since you have been attending all of those  _ fascinating  _ council meetings.”

Arthur groaned. “I still don’t know how you managed to get out of so many of them,” he complained. 

“A girl never reveals her secrets,” Morgana evaded mysteriously, and Arthur shook his head in exasperation before glancing over to his servant, who had been watching the exchange wide-eyed.

“You’re awfully quiet,” the prince noted. “Are you ill?”

“No, I’m just enjoying the show,” Merlin commented lightly. “Seems Morgana is even better at insulting you than I am!” 

Morgana’s laugh tinkled in response. “Why thank you, Merlin.”

Arthur watched the exchange through slitted eyes. An idea was forming in his mind, one he couldn’t fathom being true, but the evidence was rather damning. Merlin and Morgana had arrived at his chambers together, and though Morgana insisted that they had met along the way, Arthur had his doubts. It seemed far more likely that the two were already together for some reason, especially considering Merlin’s hesitation in response to Arthur’s earlier question. And now Merlin had casually addressed Morgana without her title, and Morgana had giggled -  _ giggled _ \- in response! Were Merlin and Morgana…?

No, surely not. That would be absurd. How could Merlin ever hope to win the heart of someone so beautiful, and so above his station? And Morgana surely knew that nothing would ever come of it if they were… no. There was  _ no way _ . 

“Are you going to let us in?” Morgana asked blandly, a dark eyebrow raised. Arthur shook himself out of his thoughts, hoping his shock and disbelief didn’t show on his face. 

“Oh yes, right,” he stammered, still reeling over the idea of Morgana and  _ Merlin _ \- NO. He couldn’t consider this right now. Once they were both inside, he asked, “What question did you have for me, Morgana?”

She waved him off. “Nothing urgent. Go ahead and talk to Merlin first. I can wait.”

Arthur glanced between the servant and the lady and frowned. “I’m sure you don’t want to wait around while Merlin and I talk. Go ahead and ask your question, and then you can go back to your chambers.”

Now both of Morgana’s eyebrows ascended her porcelain forehead in perfect synchronization. “It’s very presumptuous of you, Arthur Pendragon, to assume you know what I want.” 

Arthur shrugged. “Fine, you can stay.” He turned to Merlin seriously. “Now, Merlin, I have something very important to discuss with you. There are some changes that are going to happen over the next few days.”

The servant frowned his lack of understanding. “What do you mean, change? Are you going to wash your own dirty socks from now on?”

Morgana stifled a laugh with what sounded suspiciously like a snort, and Merlin’s grin widened.  _ Oh, great, now they’re egging each other on _ , Arthur groused to himself. Arthur had been considering going easy on the servant, but now there was no holding back. Merlin had done this to himself.

With a wicked grin, Arthur reached behind his changing screen and produced a set of clothing and a hat - a colorful, feathered, archaic hat that servants hadn’t been required to wear at feasts in at least five years. Merlin’s eyes widened at the fashion atrocity before him. “Wow, Arthur, that’s a bold statement. I’m sure you of all people can make it work, though.”

Arthur’s grin spread into something almost evil. “Oh, no, Merlin. This isn’t mine. This is for you.”

Merlin blanched. Arthur saw Morgana fighting another giggling fit out of the corner of his eye. It was good that she had stayed. This way, he could humiliate Merlin even further. “It’s very kind of you to think of me, Arthur, but you didn’t have to get me anything. It’s not even my birthday.”

“Oh, this isn’t a gift,” Arthur laughed. “It’s the formal attire of the servants of Camelot. You’re to wear it to the feast tomorrow.” He noticed Morgana’s frown; she knew as well as he did that the servants didn’t have to wear the hat anymore.

This news seemed to momentarily distract the servant. “You mean I’m going to the feast?” Arthur almost smiled at the excitement in his voice. Almost.

“Not exactly,” the prince hedged. “You’ll be there as my servant. It will be your honored duty to make sure my cup doesn’t run dry.”

Merlin considered this carefully. “And I have to wear the costume?”

“Uniform,” Arthur corrected. “And yes.”

“Even the hat?”

“ _ Especially _ the hat.”

Merlin looked to Morgana as if for help, but she was obviously torn between feeling sorry for the servant and being amused at Arthur’s pettiness and offered no assistance at all.

He sighed. “Fine,” he agreed. Arthur scoffed - as if he’d ever had a choice in the matter!

“Take these - do  _ not  _ throw them on the floor or shove them into a drawer.” He held out the clothes and hat, and the servant reluctantly took them. “My ceremonial armor needs to be polished, as does my ceremonial sword and crown. I’ll need you to come and ready me for the welcoming ceremony at first light.”

Sighing, Merlin bade the nobles good night and slouched out of Arthur’s chambers like he was marching to his death. 

* * *

Even though it was Merlin’s “honored duty” to serve Arthur during the feast, and even though he seemed to be the only servant in the entire hall whose head looked like a peacock trying to attract a mate, the servant found himself thoroughly enjoying the feast. 

Uther, it seemed, had spared no expense in an effort to make this feast truly memorable. The rich smell of roast boar and deer and lamb filled the hall with warmth - Merlin had never seen so much food in his life! He hoped that it would be as Gwen had said, that after the feast, if there was enough food left on the serving plates, that the servants could partake. Wine goblets were filled and refilled, the kitchen’s coffers somehow never running dry. The entertainment, a troupe bards and a mischievous jester, had even the kings in stitches. 

The best thing, though, was the unity that Merlin saw. He didn’t know much of the history between Camelot and Mercia, but from what Arthur had told him, death and betrayal reeked from both sides. Seeing these two kingdoms and their kings, once so full of hate for one another, dine side by side, laugh together, drink together… It gave Merlin hope that two foes, diametrically opposed, could one day live in harmony. Maybe the dragon was right. Maybe someday, sorcerers and the kingdom of Camelot could live in peace as well.

For a while, Merlin chatted with Gwen, but for some strange reason, she became a bit cold after their conversation led them to Bayard’s pretty serving girl that Merlin had run into, Cara. Scratching his head as Gwen stalked off to join Morgana - who caught his eye and winked - he wondered what he’d said wrong. With a sigh, he glanced over to where he knew Cara to be stationed and was caught off guard when he saw the pensive expression on her beautiful face.

Before he could ponder it any further, however, King Bayard stood up to speak. His words emboldened the entire room, first recounting the decades of bad blood between the two kingdoms and then rallying everyone together under the hopeful banner of peace. The man, though gruff, had a way with words that Merlin admired. It was when Bayard opened the gilded case and removed two ornate goblets that Cara suddenly appeared by Merlin’s side. He hadn’t even seen her approaching.

“Hi,” he whispered. “Great speech, isn’t it?” Cara bit her lip, her startling blue eyes dark with concern. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Merlin asked, pulling her aside, the back of his neck tingling in sudden foreboding. He felt eyes on him and noticed that Arthur was watching him closely. As soon as Merlin caught the prince’s eye, however, Arthur turned back to Bayard’s speech, spine stiff like he was on alert. 

“I need to speak to you. Now,” Cara insisted. “It’s urgent.”

He followed her swift form just outside of the hall. “What is it?” he asked. When she hesitated, he added, “You can trust me, I promise.”

Taking a deep breath, Cara nodded and revealed, “Everything makes sense now. I didn’t make the connection until I realized that the goblet was for Arthur.”

Warning bells ringing in his mind, Merlin doubled down. “What are you talking about?”

Again, Cara hesitated. “Cara,  _ please _ . If anyone has threatened you, I will protect you. You have my word. But you  _ have _ to tell me what you saw. Is Arthur in danger?”

Shakily, Cara nodded once more. “King Bayard, he... “ She squared her shoulders, apparently drawing upon the last reserves of her courage. “He laced the goblet. With poison.”

Before she had even finished speaking, Merlin had turned on his heel and was pelting into the hall. He felt her eyes upon his back as he sprung to Arthur’s aid, and had he turned around he would have seen the triumph raging in them.

* * *

Arthur tried to maintain the appearance of interest in the proceedings, but after Bayard’s speech had droned on past the five-minute mark, the prince began to check out. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the importance of this occasion, but it was quite apparent that Bayard just enjoyed listening to himself talk. Letting his gaze wander, his eyes alighted upon Merlin, who was in intense conversation with a pretty serving girl. Wondering what Merlin was up to, if magic was somehow involved, Arthur watched closely until Merlin snapped his head around and met the prince’s gaze. Flushing from having been discovered watching the servant, Arthur swiveled his attention back to Bayard and pretended that nothing had happened.

Bayard poured the wine - one goblet for the king, one for the prince - and proudly toasted the coming age of peace and prosperity. Arthur raised the goblet to his lips to drink -  _ finally _ \- when a sudden disturbance rent the toast.

“No! Don’t drink it!”

Instinctively, Arthur jerked the goblet away from his mouth and stared in horror as Merlin bolted toward them, face pale, eyes wild. 

The king’s glare alone should have vaporized the servant on the spot. “What is the meaning of this?” Uther hissed as Bayard looked on with passive interest. 

Ignoring the king and addressing the prince, Merlin repeated, “Don’t drink the wine. It’s poisoned.”

A collective gasp sucked all of the air out of the room and a hush fell over the hall shortly after. Arthur felt his stomach twist in fear - not for himself, he realized, but for Merlin. What was the idiot  _ thinking _ , making an accusation such as that? It was bad enough that he chose to use magic in Camelot, but at least he did that in secret. Now he was boldly proclaiming treason against a visiting king who was in Camelot to sign a treaty?

Hoping to gain some control over the situation like he had the last time Merlin had caused a stir - that time, he had burst into the council room claiming to be a sorcerer, which, to be fair, he was - Arthur took a step forward and growled, “What are you on about,  _ Mer _ lin? Have you been sneaking wine?” There were a few uneasy chuckles from the attending nobility. No one from Bayard’s side so much as cracked a smile. Bayard himself looked poised to kill.

“Bayard laced the wine with poison,” Merlin insisted. “Someone saw him doing it.”

“Who?” Uther’s tone was clipped. 

“I can’t say,” Merlin admitted, and Arthur thought he might kill the servant himself. “I made a promise.”

Arthur saw his father’s eyes, furious and sharp, dart to Bayard. “Is this true?”

Bayard scoffed. “If this is how you treat your fellow king, then I have misjudged you, Uther Pendragon. I came here for the purpose of peace, the same reason that you invited me here! The boy’s accusation is insulting, and I will not stand for it. I demand you hand him over to me, now.”

Arthur felt solid ground begin to crumble beneath his feet. “Father--”

The king barreled over him, addressing King Bayard. “If you are innocent as you say, then you have nothing to fear.” He plucked the goblet from Arthur’s hands and held it out to King Bayard, who easily reached for it. When he saw how quickly the visiting king accepted the challenge, Uther hesitated; Arthur held his breath. He had a nasty feeling that he knew what was coming and determined to do whatever he could to stop it.

“No,” Uther decided, his expression sharper than a blade. “If you truly are a traitor, I want the pleasure of killing you myself.” He swiveled to face Merlin, who stood there in a rare show of silence, eyes wide, breathing hard. “ _ He’ll  _ drink it.”

Again, Arthur intruded, “Father!” This couldn’t happen. Not now. Not after Merlin had saved Arthur twice, maybe more, times just since arriving in Camelot. Arthur hadn’t even built up the courage to speak to Merlin about his magic yet. Even more pressing, the thought of Merlin dying - whether by poison or Bayard’s blade - sent a sickness throughout all of Arthur’s being. Merlin had somehow already become a staple in Arthur’s life. He was a stupid, scrawny commoner with an enormous secret and more heart than he knew what to do with. He couldn’t die.

With a start, Arthur understood something very important and wholly unexpected: Merlin was his  _ friend _ .

Hardly realizing what he was doing, adrenaline coursing through his veins, Arthur rushd around the table to intersect the hand-off of the goblet. His fingers caught it the same time that Merlin’s trembling ones did. “I’ll drink it!” Arthur exclaimed.

“No,” Merlin defied, “you won’t.” Unable to hide the fear in his eyes, he wrenched the goblet away from Arthur, brought it to his lips, and drank.

At first, nothing happened. Relief filled Arthur as Merlin uttered, “It’s fine.” 

Then came a new wave of fear as Uther intoned, “He’s all yours” to Bayard and the other king drew his sword. Arthur froze, no clue how to fix this. It was one thing to drink poison, but to openly defy the king’s orders by stepping in between Bayard and Merlin? Even attempting to fight Bayard off would only delay Merlin’s death. Unless… If Merlin used magic to save himself, to flee Camelot, he would be a fugitive, but at least he’d be alive. Arthur opened his mouth to tell Merlin to protect himself, the way only he could, when a strange, keening gurgle sounded from the servant’s direction.

The sound of the goblet ringing against the stone floor pierced straight through Arthur’s soul.

* * *

Morgana shot to her feet as Merlin fell. Beside her, Gwen cried out, tears falling down her face. Inside, Morgana raged at the injustice of it all, but on the outside, she was composed. “Go to him,” she ordered Gwen. Her voice was hard, but Gwen would know that it wasn’t directed at her. Without so much as a thank you, Gwen had dashed to follow Gaius and Arthur, who had a limp Merlin draped over one shoulder, out of the hall.

Morgana herself wanted nothing more than to go after them as well, but it would not do to call attention to her concern over Merlin, particularly since he was already on such thin ice with Uther as it was. Besides, there was so much chaos erupting around her that she knew it would be prudent to wait. Bayard’s men were being rounded up as she watched. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed a dark-haired serving girl in Bayard’s colors slip out a side door.

Morgana moved out from behind the table and along the wall to reach the door the girl had gone through. Peering around the corner, she was surprised to see that the woman, whoever she was, was already gone.

* * *

Gwen sat at Merlin’s bedside, pressing a cold compress to his already boiling forehead. It was so petty now, she thought, being frustrated at the attention Merlin was paying the other serving girl. Why had she been so cold with him? Guilt festered inside her as she dunked the compress back into cold water.

She listened as Gaius and the prince discussed their course of action. Not long ago, Gwen would have been surprised to see Prince Arthur so urgently trying to save a servant’s life. Looking down at the pale, pinched face of her friend, Gwen saw clearly what - or who - had started this change in Arthur. The prince had, not long ago, stood up for Gwen herself, and, according to both Merlin and Morgana, had much to do with her charge of witchcraft being dropped. 

“The journey to attain the Morteus flower will not be easy,” Gaius warned Arthur. “No one has come back from the caves alive.” Gwen’s heart skipped a beat. Merlin huffed in pain and she re-applied the compress, soothing, “Shhh.”

“He saved my life,” Arthur insisted stubbornly. “More than once.” The way Arthur said it was almost as if he knew something that she did not. “I won’t let him die.”

“Your father will never allow you to embark on such a journey.” Gwen knew that Gaius was only speaking the truth, but irritation welled within her. It almost sounded like Gaius didn’t want Arthur to obtain the cure. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the heaviness on the old physician’s already slumped shoulders, the deep lines of misery around his eyes, and instantly she regretted the anger she had felt towards him. Gaius was suffering, too, perhaps more than any of them.

“It’s not his call to make.” Arthur’s voice was the sound of heels digging firmly into gravel. His voice softening, he made his way into Gwen’s line of sight. For some reason, she found herself reddening as they locked eyes. Looking away from her and setting his gaze on the gasping servant, he asked, “How long do I have?”

Every word drooping with ten times its weight, Gaius answered, “The Morteus poison induces a slow and painful death. He may last four days, five at the most. Eventually, though, he will die.”

Arthur’s gaze still on his suffering servant, Gwen watched as determination locked into place. “I will be back as soon as I can. Keep him alive until then.”

“We will do our best,” Gaius promised. “Be safe, Sire.”

* * *

Forty minutes later, Arthur stormed into his chambers, ears buzzing as the injustice of his father’s words ate away at him.

_ Because his life’s worthless? _

_ No, because it’s  _ worth less _ than yours! _

This was  _ not  _ the kind of kingdom that Arthur wanted to rule someday, one that sacrificed the life of its people, citing the notion that some people, merely because of the family they were born into, were worth more. He did understand that sometimes hard choices had to be made for the greater good - cordoning off the lower town during the plague, for example, had been an attempt to stop the sickness from spreading to the more populated areas, and whether Arthur had liked his father’s method or not, it had undoubtedly kept death from spreading as far as it could have.

But this? The cruelty of his father astounded him. Merlin had not only risked his life in revealing to the king that the goblet was poisoned, but he had drank said poison and saved Arthur’s life doubly! If anything, Merlin was a hero in this situation, but the king would insist that he was just doing what every commoner should do - putting the life of his royals ahead of his own. Arthur was capable and strong. His father knew this. And yet Arthur was ordered to stay in Camelot and watch the man who had saved his life, and Morgana’s - sorcerer or not - die a horrific death.

“Arthur.”

With a start, the prince spun to see Morgana silhouetted in the light from his open doors. Her shoes clicked on the stone as she entered.

“Morgana. I’m sorry; I should have checked on you earlier. Are you all right?”

Even in his unlit chambers, with only the light from the torch-lit hallway outside, Morgana’s eyes flashed. “I’m fine.” She glanced at Arthur’s sword which he’d placed on his table. “Are you giving up so easily?”

“Morgana--”

“Arthur Pendragon, I cannot believe you would let your father bully you into taking the easy way out! I never took you for a coward.”

“Morgana!”

“You  _ cannot _ let Merlin die, not like this! If you knew the things he has done for you--” She suddenly snapped her mouth shut, as if she had said too much.

Turning to face her fully, Arthur asked, “What  _ has _ he done for me, Morgana?”

Regaining her composure, Morgana huffed, “You know! He saved your life when the old woman attacked you. And just now, with the poison.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “I know about that already. You implied that there were things he’s done for me beyond what I am already aware of.”

He watched her eyes widen almost imperceptibly. She deflected, “Is now really the time to be questioning me, Arthur? Merlin’s in danger, and you’re standing around interrogating me. It’s been a long day. I misspoke.”

Arthur highly doubted that - Morgana was not one to say anything but what she meant, even in times of stress - but she was right. Now was not the time for this. They would revisit this later,  _ after _ he had found the antidote.

“Fair enough,” he granted. “And Morgana? You also misspoke when you implied that I am not intending on going after the antidote.”

She stepped back in surprise. “You are? But, your father--”

“If there’s one thing you’ve taught me over the years,” Arthur responded coolly, “it’s that sometimes you have to do what you know to be right, damn the consequences.”

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Morgana’s red lips. “Then what are you doing back here?”

Casting an incredulous look her way, Arthur indicated the satchel thrown haphazardly onto his bed. “I’m… packing?”

“I’m proud of you, Arthur.” The words touched Arthur more than he would have expected, and he cleared his throat. 

“Well, I had better hurry and finish packing. I’ve got a ways to go, and Merlin doesn’t have much time.”

* * *

Getting past the guards his father had stationed at the gate was easier than expected, and shortly Arthur was on his way to the Caves of Balor. Gaius had shown them to him on a map, and had estimated that they were at least four or five hours away, even on horseback. Although Merlin apparently had several days until death claimed him, Arthur moved as swiftly as possible, not wanting to take any chances. Besides, he had witnessed first-hand the pain that the poison was already inflicting upon Merlin’s system. It would be cruel to allow him to suffer longer than necessary while Arthur took his time.

As he rode, Arthur kept his keen eyes on the lookout out for any signs of danger, but all was clear. Despite the desperation and peril of the situation, Arthur couldn’t help but enjoy the cool air on his face, the wind in his hair, and the sound of the horse’s hooves thundering across the terrain. Because of all of the preparations for Bayard’s visit, this was the first time that he had spent any substantial amount of time out of the castle other than a hunt or two - and the one time he’d tailed Merlin into the Darkling Woods.

At the thought of his servant, he sobered. He hoped that he had not waited too long to have that talk with Merlin. He’d been so cautious, harboring doubts even when it was obvious that Merlin was no evil sorcerer, and now he might die without ever knowing that Arthur was grateful he had shown that magic could be used for good.

_ I was waiting and watching to make sure he was truly loyal to me, and to Camelot, _ Arthur thought grimly.  _ If drinking poison for me isn’t certain proof of his loyalty, then I don’t know what is.  _

He would retrieve the antidote, save Merlin’s life, and then have that talk with Merlin. 

And then he’d figure out just what the  _ hell _ was going on between him and Morgana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the first chapter of this story!
> 
> I ended up breaking this monster of an episode into two parts, because when I had finished it, it was a whopping 11,000ish words! The next part will come next Saturday. It’s already written, so you will definitely get it on time. I’m spacing out updates because I want to be able to write ahead to provide more regular updates for you all in the long run.
> 
> Also, I did want to clarify that my aim is for each chapter (or chapters lol) to be its own relatively self-contained “episode,” but I’m not planning on following this format slavishly. Also, just a reminder that - as I am sure you could tell from this episode - from here on out I am not taking dialogue directly from the episode (I’m not even pulling up a script or having the episode on hand). I am using elements and plot points to varying degrees from each episode, but my plan from the beginning was not to rewrite each episode just enough to fit Arthur and Morgana knowing about the magic in it, but to create my own story out of that concept and what we’ve already been given. Some “episodes” may be more similar to the original than others, but none will be carbon copies of the show with minimal edits. :D
> 
> Anyway, I would love it if you would tell me your thoughts on this part! Chapter three will be up next week! :) Thanks again, everyone!
> 
> ~Emachinescat ^..^


	3. The Poisoned Chalice, Part Two

Gaius's head snapped to the door as someone knocked. Unwilling to leave Merlin's side, he glanced across the servant's restless form at Gwen, who nodded and rose to let the visitor in. "My lady!" she gasped when she saw Morgana standing there, her elegant eyebrows pinched in concern. "I am so sorry I haven't been attending to you!"

Morgana shook her head and offered her servant an understanding smile. "I can manage on my own. I didn't expect for you to leave his side." Gwen blushed. "I'm actually here to check on Merlin myself," she added. "Can I come in?"

Gwen stepped aside to let her mistress into the room, then made as if to follow her back to Merlin's bedside. Morgana stopped suddenly and turned to her servant, eyes imploring. "Actually, Gwen, there is one thing you can do. Would you mind going to the kitchens and bringing up some dinner for everyone - yourself included? Make sure they give you the best food they have on hand. Neither you nor Gaius is going to be much help to Merlin if you're weak with hunger." Gwen glanced over her shoulder at her prone friend, then nodded, hastening out of the physician's chambers with obvious intent to come back as quickly as possible. She left the door open behind her.

Morgana closed it.

"Gaius."

The old man heaved himself to his feet. Morgana could tell that he was reluctant to leave his ward's side, even for a moment. "Lady Morgana. Is there something I can do for you? Your sleeping draught, perhaps?"

"Oh, no, Gaius," the lady quickly protested. "Please, sit back down. You look exhausted. I just came to check on Merlin." Her green eyes flickered to the servant, who writhed uncomfortably on the thin mattress and gasped for air. Her chest tightened painfully at her friend's obvious suffering; she cursed Uther's cruelty internally, forcing herself to stay calm to Gaius. Indicating the chair that Gwen had just vacated, she asked, "May I sit?"

Gaius blinked. "Of course, my lady."

After she was settled, Morgana let her eyes rest on the servant's face for a moment longer, taking in the clammy skin, the redness around his eyes, the blue tinge to his lips. Her heart broke for him, and she had to resist the urge to brush his damp hair from his sweaty forehead. Instead, she tore her eyes away from his face and addressed Gaius urgently. She didn't have much time to talk to him alone. Gwen could return at any moment.

"Gaius, I need to know - is there anyway that Merlin could…" she hesitated briefly.

"My lady?"

"Could he… heal himself, somehow?"

One of Gaius's eyebrows crawled up his forehead like a fuzzy white caterpillar. Morgana could not read his expression past the surprise, but knew he had to be suspicious, perhaps frightened, at her question. However, his voice was even as he responded, "Whatever do you mean, Morgana?"

Taking a deep breath, Morgana revealed, "I know that Merlin has magic, Gaius."

This time Gaius could not hide his fear. "I assure you, my lady, that whatever you saw-"

Morgana was quick to reassure him. "Merlin knows that I know. And he also knows that I am going to keep his secret. How could I not?"

Still visibly shaken, Gaius cast his eyes on his poisoned ward. "Fool boy." His tone held only affection. "I suppose he was being careless with it?"

"Actually, I saw him using it to save my life." Her voice darkened. "And now he's fighting for his, for no other reason than his own goodness and Uther's callousness. Tell me, Gaius, is there any magic he can do to heal himself?"

"Even if he were coherent enough to perform magic right now, I do not think he has the capacity for this kind of healing spell yet. That is to say, I know that he has the _power_ \- but healing spells in and of themselves are tricky things; they take time to learn."

"But he healed Gwen's father," Morgana insisted. "Why wouldn't he be able to heal himself?"

"Sickness, even sickness born of magic, is different from poison in many ways. One can purge the body of sickness, but a poison cannot be cured so easily. Only a priest or priestess of the Old Religion would be in any way equipped with the knowledge and power of reversing a poison without its antidote."

Looking down at Merlin once more, Morgana sighed, "Then it really is all up to Arthur, isn't it?"

Reaching across the sickbed, Gaius patted Morgana's arm. "He will not fail." He sounded suspiciously as if he were trying to convince himself as well.

Both jumped as the door swung open and Gwen entered, balancing two trays on her arms. "Any change?" she asked briskly, setting her burdens down on the table amongst tomes, vials, and scattered herbs.

"Not as yet," Gaius murmured.

"Are you going to eat here, my lady?" Gwen asked. "If so, I will fetch your dinner as well. I know you didn't get to eat as well as you should have at the feast."

Rising from her seat, Morgana shook her head. "Thank you, but I think I'm going to retire to my chambers for now. I've asked Sarah to tend to me tonight - I know you'll want to stay with Merlin until Arthur returns with the antidote."

Dark eyes shining with tears, Gwen grasped Morgana's pale hand gratefully. "Thank you so much. Are you sure-?"

"Gwen. Stay with him." She cast one more glance at Merlin and requested, "And... let me know if there is any change."

* * *

After riding straight on for what had to be at least four hours, maybe more, Arthur felt his horse slowing, and knew that he wouldn't be able to press on at this speed for much longer. Noticing a clearing ahead, he made the decision to stop long enough to give his horse a rest before he continued on. If the animal gave out from exhaustion, that would delay him even more.

The clearing was quite lovely, with a small stream meandering around its edges. Wildflowers dotted the grass with bursts of color, and the moonlight trickled down the overhanging branches of the trees along the border, pooling in the center of the clearing with an eerie glow. Arthur led his horse to the stream and let him drink his fill, then did the same himself. He didn't bother tying the horse's reins; as a royal mount, Anwyn was trained for battle and did not spook easily, and would not wander.

Arthur sat on a fallen log to rest, stretching his legs one at a time to release the tension. He hadn't ridden this hard for this long in ages, and he felt it in every muscle. As he arched his back, striving for that cathartic _pop_ that would hurt initially but ultimately relieve all the built-up pressure, a strange sound emitted from the north end of the clearing.

His sword was drawn even before he had made his way to his feet, hard eyes trained on the direction the noise had come from. A low chittering, hissing, spitting. Heart pumping to the rhythm of a coming battle, the prince stalked toward the sound, watching the trees and bushes hedging the clearing.

_HHSSSSSSSSSS!_

Arthur rolled out the way just in time as a peal of fire spouted from the treeline, incinerating bushes and singeing the arm of his tunic. What followed the flame out of the bushes was ten times worse than the illustration that Gaius had shown him.

The cockatrice, as the physician had named it, was a creature of nightmares. It would probably have been taller than Arthur had its long, scaly legs not crouched low, supporting its lithe reptilian form. Horrid spikes marked its spine with deadly accuracy, from shoulders to the tip of the tail. About three-fourths up its body, the black scales turned into dull golden feathers, and its face was that of a rooster from the depths of hell, blood-red slitted snake eyes, golden beak like an executioner's axe, noxious smoke pooling from the nostrils and sides of the beak. Even from where he stood, Arthur could smell the charred decay of the monster's breath. When the cockatrice opened its maw to spew more flames, Arthur saw with horror that the inside of the beak was lined with hideous, blackened teeth, as deadly as the spikes that ran down its back.

The prince dove out of the way to avoid the next attack, then lunged toward it with his sword held aloft, intending to strike its heart. It was fast, its swiftness belying its terrifying size, and it whipped around, blocking its unprotected chest from Arthur's blade, and nearly impaled the prince with its armored tail. Gaius's words echoed in his mind: _The cockatrice spews fire, and its spines secrete a deadly poison. One scratch from those, and you will die._

That had been a close one. For a monster such as this, large and lithe with both short and long range attacks, the prince would have preferred a weapon other than his sword. A lance or crossbow would have given him more range, but they might not have the power of a sword thrust. Dodging another molten attack, an idea struck Arthur. Perhaps he could turn his _sword_ into a long-range weapon, giving himself the distance he needed as well as the power. However, he would only have one shot at this, and if he missed or anything else went wrong, he would be without a weapon entirely.

He had no choice. The cockatrice was circling him now, stalking him like a cat would a grasshopper, and Arthur knew he didn't have much time. _Merlin_ didn't have much time, either, so he had to act quickly, had to anticipate the exact moment the creature would spring. Any sooner, and he would miss; any later, and he would be fried to a crisp.

His sharp eyes caught the nearly imperceptible shift in the monster's balance, saw the anticipation in its demonic eyes the second it turned to insatiable hunger, and he _knew_. The moment the creature launched forward, horrible mouth opening to release another deadly burst of flame, Arthur's sword hurtled through the air, catching the creature in its unprotected chest, the force of the throw and the sword's own weight and momentum propelling it through scales and hide and muscles, piercing its heart and stifling the fire within.

The cockatrice let out a horrible death-cackle, smoke spewing from its beak, a thick, black substance leaking around the edges of the blade. It toppled to the forest floor with a _crash_ , driving the sword deeper into its own flesh. It fell still.

Panting with exertion, Arthur stumbled forward - _I can't believed that_ worked! _-_ and with a good amount of pushing, pulling, manipulation, and cursing, managed to finally dislodge his weapon from the corpse's chest. He cleaned it the best he could on the grass, but the creature's blood was tacky and stubbornly clung on to the once polished metal. Arthur almost laughed aloud at Merlin's face when Arthur would have him clean it. He sobered at the thought of the servant and crossed the clearing to retrieve his horse. Anwyn, though obviously spooked, had not run during the battle, and let Arthur mount him almost gratefully. The poor animal probably wanted to get out of here even more than Arthur himself did.

As Arthur left the clearing, he felt hope rise within him. After all, Gaius had said that the creature was said to guard the Caves of Balor, so he had to be getting close.

_Hold on, Merlin. Just hold on._

* * *

The caves were exactly what Arthur expected them to be - dark, damp, and foreboding. What he _wasn't_ expecting was a cloaked woman to appear out of the shadows the moment he stepped out onto a ledge, reaching for the flower he could see just out of reach. He certainly wasn't expecting this mysterious figure holding flame in one hand to incant a spell and crumble his already perilous footing from beneath him. His stomach lurched as the ground began to crack, and he launched himself forward just in time to catch himself on the cave wall, gloved hands desperately scrabbling for any handhold.

Sharp rocks and jutting edges cut through his gloves, slicing at his palms, and it was only sheer determination aided by abundant adrenaline that kept him from letting go. Gasping for breath, he clung to the wall like an overgrown spider, hands already cramping around the insubstantial handholds, feet struggling to find a perch as well. Once he had steadied himself as much as possible, he peered up at the cloaked figure who stood above him like a vengeful goddess. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice strong and defiant despite his vulnerability. "Why are you doing this?"

"Do not blame me for the punishment your father has wrought upon himself and his line," a harsh, but somehow still melodic, voice hissed.

Arthur's heart plunged to the depths of the pit beneath him. He hung tightly to the wall, determined not to follow it. "You're angry with my father because of his stance on magic?" he called up. "You might be surprised to know that I am less like my father than you would think!"

The woman scoffed. "Do not think that my quarrel with Uther Pendragon is something so… mundane," she sneered. Her voice changed to something sickly sweet. "You killed the cockatrice, so you must be very strong. However, that strength will do you no good here."

In the light from the sorceress's flames, Arthur saw the Morteus flower several feet out of reach. Knowing that he would lose strength the longer he clung here, Arthur gathered his courage and began to climb the nearly sheer wall, carefully feeling for hand and footholds in the dark.

"My, my," crooned the voice, more amused than impressed. "And you continue to press forward, so desperate to save the life of your servant, despite the inevitability of your death. You must be very brave as well." Laughing, she added, "But it will do you no good. I think I will leave you now. If you somehow manage not to fall before the… _wildlife_ … finds you, that would be a miracle indeed, but either way, you will not leave this cave alive."

Straining to climb, frustrated that he had only gained a couple of inches at most, Arthur growled, "If you're so desperate to see me dead, then why not finish me off yourself?"

"Oh, it is not your destiny to die by my hand, Arthur Pendragon."

"That's rich, considering you're the whole reason I'm in this mess," the prince ground out.

"It may not be my fate to kill you myself, but surely it is no crime to give destiny a nudge in the right direction." He could hear the smirk in her voice. "Goodbye, Arthur Pendragon. Enjoy your death."

She disappeared, taking her conjured light with her. Arthur was left in total darkness, save for the pale shine of the moon from an opening far above that offered no guidance whatsoever. Desperation clung to every fiber of his being. He'd _failed_. There was no light to climb by. His arms were weakening, his fingers cramped. He could fall at any moment.

That's when he heard it - an ominous pattering that at first sounded like rain on flagstone, growing louder and more frenetic by the second. Risking a glance down below him, fear lanced up the prince's spine as he saw dozens of pairs of red eyes making their way steadily up the face of the cliff toward him. He didn't know what these creatures were, but they certainly were not here to help him. They must be the "wildlife" the witch had spoken of.

Any last dregs of hope drained from Arthur's soul as the darkness pressed in on him and the maddening _taptaptaptaptap_ -ing grew closer. _I'm sorry, Merlin. I tried._

A light appeared in the darkness.

* * *

It had been a lucky stroke that Gaius had sent Gwen to fetch water when he had. Merlin's muttering of the Old Tongue had become increasingly desperate, and he had worried that the boy might inadvertently perform some small act of magic that would be difficult to explain to Gwen, but he hadn't expected to see a blue orb of pure energy radiate from Merlin's opened palm. It illuminated the ugly, damning rash that was appearing far too soon on his nearly translucent skin and cast an eerie pallor on his wan face.

"Merlin, what-" Gaius breathed, mind reeling at the powerful magic he was seeing, magic the likes of which Merlin should not be able to conjure right now, in his poor state.

Everything clicked together when Merlin spoke again, his eyes flaring open gold, cracked lips sporting a name that helped everything make sense: "Arthur."

His eyes fluttered shut, but the orb remained. Gaius glanced at the door, willed Gwen to take her time fetching the water, and held Merlin's other hand, as if lending him his own strength.

He watched, and waited.

* * *

The light was unlike anything Arthur had ever seen before, and yet there was something incredibly familiar about the perfect sphere of invigorating blue that filled his chest with warmth. A sense of peace, comfort, encouragement, and home radiated from it, and the closer it drew near, the less his muscles ached, and strength surged back into his body, hopelessness replaced with renewed determination.

When the light rose and hovered near the opening at the top of the cave, illuminating the way out - and the flowers just out of reach - the prince came to a stunning revelation, one he could not fully understand but that had to be true: Merlin. The familiarity of this light, the warmth and protection and strength it provided, it was _Merlin_. Somehow, even while in the throes of inevitable death, Merlin was still protecting Arthur.

Renewed further by this staggering realization, Arthur started his climb once more, trying to ignore the sound of whatever was pursuing him getting louder, getting closer, and once he had gained a few inches, the prince made the mistake of looking down hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever they were in the light of the orb. A mass of legs and fat, hairy bodies, dotted with countless red eyes, scurried up the wall, and he realized the sound like pelting rain was a combination of the spiders' legs on stone and the clicking of fangs. Arthur had never been afraid of insects, but this might just be enough to change his mind.

Now with the added motivation giant spiders on his tail, Arthur resumed his climb with vigor. The flowers were a bit out of his way; he would have to shimmy to the side and reach for them instead of heading straight for the entrance. Even with his newfound strength, he would be cutting it close. As if Merlin had read his thoughts, his voice echoed through Arthur's consciousness - not aloud from the sphere, and not exactly in his mind, either, an echo of an echo - _Leave them, Arthur. Save yourself._

Filing this weird connection with Merlin's dying subconscious away until he wasn't in immediate danger of being eaten by a swarm of hellish arachnids, Arthur gritted his teeth and began making his lateral shift, closer to the flowers. _If you think I'm going to come all this way to save your sorry backside and then just leave without the antidote because of a few pests, then you're even stupider than I thought,_ Arthur thought.

The flowers were just above him now, taunting him from their ledge, and he braced himself the best he could on his tenuous foothold and reached. He could feel the monsters at his back, growing closer and closer and he reached, fingertips brushing vegetation, muscles screaming, fear building, one final, wild grab - and the antidote was in his clutches, now tucked away into the satchel at his hip. Emboldened by his success and driven onward by the spiders now nearly close enough to touch, the prince made quick work of the rest of the wall and pulled himself out of the cave and onto grass just starting to dew in the shifting shadows of dawn.

He scrambled to his feet, drawing his sword just in case the cave dwellers were willing to venture out of the pitch darkness for their meal, but once he had alighted from the cave, they ceased their pursuit. Breathing heavily, muscles trembling, Arthur's eyes darted around for any sight of the cloaked madwoman who had done this to him. Thankfully, he was alone - other than Anwyn, who snorted his approval at Arthur's return and stamped his hoof.

Glaring up at the now feeble orb which now wavered at eye-level in the first rays of sunlight, Arthur remarked wryly, no real heat in his voice, "I appreciate the help, but really, only you would expend energy you don't have while _dying_ to try to be the hero, _Mer_ lin." The orb didn't respond, but the prince hadn't expected it to.

Moments later, it flickered out of existence entirely. Though he told himself that Merlin had just completed what he had set out to do, that the disappearing light did not herald something more severe, Arthur wasted no time in mounting Anwyn and galloping back the way they had come, his face set in grim determination.

* * *

Merlin was worse, much worse. Gaius truly did not know if he would last past another dusk. Nimueh's spell on the poison had increased its potency tenfold, and the old physician willed Arthur not to dally under the assumption that Merlin had four days as Gaius had previously thought. Gwen slumped, snoring lightly, in her chair, curled up on the hard wood like a cat, expression unsettled even in her uneasy slumber.

She startled awake as the door to Gaius's chambers swung open with an indignant squeal and clattered against the wall. Gaius himself sprang to his feet with far more agility than he realized he had in him. "What is the meaning of this?" he snapped, before schooling his expression when he realized who was crossing his threshold. "My lady, I apologize. I did not realize-"

Morgana, eyes blazing with fury, cut him off. "Uther's heartlessness knows no bounds," she proclaimed as Gwen scurried to her side, trying to guide her to the seat that the servant herself had just vacated. Morgana shook her off and addressed Gaius once more. "Arthur returned with the antidote, but the king locked him up for defying his orders. He won't let anyone see Arthur, and he refuses to allow anyone else to bring the antidote to Merlin either."

Gwen gaped at her mistress. "Even after Merlin saved Arthur's life by drinking poison meant for him?"

"To what end is Uther doing this?" Gaius asked, and even he could hear the slight tremble in his words.

"To teach Arthur a lesson, apparently," Morgana snapped. "I tried to reason with him, but he is so set on maintaining total control over every aspect of his son's life that he refuses to consider another alternative." Her eyes flicked to the panting servant on the sickbed, taking in, Gaius was sure, the grey pallor of coming death. "You have to talk some sense into him, Gaius," she implored.

Burning desperation infecting his spirit, chasing out the last vestiges of hope for his ward, Gaius slowly shook his head. "If he will not listen to you, Morgana, then I am afraid he will certainly not heed the word of an old man like me."

Gwen set her jaw and stepped forward, normally gentle eyes steeled with purpose. "I will find a way to sneak into the dungeon and retrieve the antidote from Arthur," she decided.

"That will be very dangerous," Morgana remarked with surprise. She regarded her maidservant with something akin to admiration.

"Merlin is worth it," Gwen said simply. She left.

* * *

The next few hours were a haze of uncertainty, despair, and finally hope. One obstacle would be overcome, and yet another would take its place. Gwen was able to sneak the Morteus leaves from Arthur's cell, only narrowly avoiding being caught, but then Gaius realized that because the poison had been enhanced with magic that magic may be needed to enhance the antidote. Gaius had sent Gwen out for water again and had managed enough power to enchant the antidote while Morgana watched, the gold of the spell reflecting briefly in her own eyes. However, once Gwen returned and held the sorcerer's nose while Gaius fed the potion to a corpse-like Merlin, it seemed as if they had not completed the antidote in time as Merlin's heart had stopped beating and he appeared to be dead despite everything. Thankfully, that had been a false alarm, and he had woken up just long enough to inquire about Arthur's safety before falling back into a restless slumber, weak, sickly, but no longer with his fist poised at death's door.

Morgana and Gwen kept vigil over the servant while Gaius spoke to Uther, finally managed to persuade him of Bayard's innocence based on Nimueh's now certain involvement in the poisoning - it could only have been her who had attempted to kill Arthur at the caves. Within hours, a tentative peace had been reforged in the understanding that both sides had been manipulated by magic, the treaty had been signed, and Bayard's men had left to intercept the troops from Mercia that were marching upon Camelot after word of Bayard's arrest reached them.

The fact that Nimueh was proving herself to be active in the affairs of Camelot once more, this time with a grudge not just against Uther and his kin but against Merlin as well, shook Gaius to his core, but he chose not to dwell on these things on this night. Merlin was alive and recovering, Morgana knew about his magic and had allied herself with him, which would be a balm to the warlock, Gaius knew, and Mercia was no longer threatening war.

For tonight, at least, all was well.

* * *

The first thing that Arthur did when he was released from the cells three days later - Uther had seen fit to release him early after hearing the full story of Arthur's adventures and mulling over it for a while - was visit his servant in Gaius's chambers. The king had even skirted around an apology, actually admitting to his son that he may have acted hastily in allowing the boy that had saved Arthur's life to die so that Arthur could learn a lesson. He seemed pleased that Merlin had pulled through after all. Arthur thought with a kind of anxious amusement that his father would be singing a completely different tune had he known the things about the servant that his son did.

When he entered the physician's chambers, Morgana was on her way out. Her eyes twinkled in amusement as he demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"The same as you, I'd wager. Visiting Merlin." Glancing past Morgana, Arthur saw Merlin sitting at the table, a bit peckish and pale looking but very much alive, watching the exchange with a grin.

Arthur rolled his eyes dramatically. "Why would _I_ be here to see _Mer_ lin?" he drawled. "As useless as he is in full health, he'll be of no benefit to me at all in this state."

Morgana smirked knowingly. "Well, Gaius isn't here, so I suppose you'll accompany me out and come back later then?"

Trying not to fixate on the revelation that Merlin and Morgana had been spending time together, _alone_ _and unsupervised_ , Arthur threw his hands in the air in a show of surrender. "Fine, you got me. I'm here to make sure Merlin isn't slacking off and pretending to be ill just to get out of work."

It was Morgana's turn to roll her eyes. "I will take my leave now. All this chauvinistic pretense is stifling." She turned and waved at Merlin. "It's good to see you feeling better, Merlin."

When she was gone, Arthur moved deeper into the room, crossed his arms over his chest, and demanded, " _What_ was that about?"

Tilting his head quizzically, Merlin asked, "What was what about?"

"Why are you and Morgana spending so much _quality_ time together?" Arthur immensely enjoyed seeing his servant squirm under his questioning, but the servant recovered rather quickly.

"Hey, I've been stuck in this room for days. _She's_ the one who came to visit me. You'll have to ask her if you're so bothered, but I'm assuming it's because unlike some prats, she cares about someone other than herself." There was no heat in his words, only good-natured jest.

"Careful," Arthur warned light-heartedly. "Poisoned or not, I am still your prince."

Merlin grinned wickedly. "Prince or not, you're still a prat."

"You're insufferable," Arthur complained. "I don't know why I haven't sacked you already."

"You did, remember?" Merlin reminded him. "With Valiant, and the snakes?"

"Gods only know why I hired you back," Arthur groused. Growing serious, he asked, "How are you feeling? Still like death?"

Merlin shrugged. "More like death warmed over." He cleared his throat. "And I hear that I have you to thank for that."

Arthur shifted awkwardly where he stood. "It was nothing."

"Thank you, Arthur." Merlin's eyes held only gratitude. They were the color of the orb that had saved the prince's life in the cave. Arthur couldn't help but wonder if Merlin even remembered conjuring and sending the magic to his friend's aid.

Arthur had never been good at this kind of thing - heart-to-heart conversations, especially with an idiotic, self-sacrificing servant like Merlin, but he finally settled with acknowledging, "You would do the same for me." He paused, whether to collect his thoughts or for dramatic effect, even he was unsure. "In fact, I think it is safe to say that you _have_."

Merlin stared at him, confused. "You mean… with the poison?"

"Perhaps," Arthur hedged. He wasn't planning on letting Merlin know that he was aware of his secret until the servant had completely recovered and was back to work; he'd gone through far too much to keep the idiot alive for the shock of having his magic discovered to kill him now. But giving half-answers just vague enough to mess with the servant's mind and keep him wondering wouldn't hurt anyone.

"Rest up, Merlin," Arthur ordered, turning to leave as Merlin still tried to puzzle out the meaning in Arthur's words. "I expect to see you back at work as soon as Gaius clears you for duty."

Merlin nodded distractedly. As Arthur reached out for the door handle, he couldn't help himself. He turned back to the servant and added, "Oh, and Merlin? I'm glad you didn't die."

It was as close to an acknowledgement of friendship as Arthur was willing to admit aloud, but he saw in Merlin's eyes that the sorcerer understood what lay beneath the surface of what had been said. It was a funny thing about Merlin, Arthur thought as he made his way back to the training grounds: He was quite good at seeing past the surface of things, past nefarious plots, past ornate goblets lined with death … and even, it seemed, the Crown Prince of Camelot himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this installment of the story! Thank you so much to everyone who read, gave kudos, bookmarked, and reviewed - you all literally make my day! You'll notice that I added a lot to this "episode," and that I made changes to the episode itself. This series is also turning into being "Emachinescat fixes stupid plot-points that make no sense." Maybe it's just me, but I never understood the relevance of Nimueh pretending to be a serving girl so that she could lead Arthur to the cave he was already going to. And although it's not a plot point, the "cockatrice" in the show was NOT a cockatrice. So I fixed that too. :) Thanks again to those who are reviewing. I'm hoping to be able to have time to start responding personally soon!
> 
> I will see you next time with "Lancelot"! I already have it written, and it will be split into three parts, so be ready for something crazy for me - regular updates! Anyway, please let me know what you thought. I'm loving this series so far, and I have so many plans already forming for the seasons to come as well.
> 
> ~Emachinescat ^..^


	4. Lancelot, Part One

A week had passed since Merlin's poisoning. He had been gaining strength steadily, and Gaius had finally pronounced him well enough to return to work on the morrow. Merlin, as much as he complained about all the work Arthur piled upon him on a regular basis, was quite relieved to be getting back to his job. A week of being cooped up in the physician's chambers was enough to drive anyone mad, even with the regular visits he received from Gwen, Morgana, and, on more occasions than the servant had expected, Arthur.

Arthur, of course, never claimed to be checking up on Merlin. Instead, he concocted a various sundry of half-truths and poorly veiled excuses for knocking upon Gaius's door. Usually he claimed he was stopping by to find out if Merlin was done lazing about, or to ask Gaius a medical question regarding a training injury that he obviously already knew the answer to. Once, he'd gotten very creative and had claimed he was looking for his gloves, which Merlin was sure the prince had purposefully left on Gaius's table the evening before. In a show of gratitude and generosity, Merlin had not acknowledged how easily he saw through Arthur's charade. That didn't necessarily mean that he wouldn't store it away as fodder for a rainy day, though.

Apparently, Arthur wasn't the only one suffering from the lack of someone to do his chores for him. Indeed, Gaius woke Merlin up at the first whisper of dawn on the day the warlock was to return to work. "Oh, good, you're awake," he said, ignoring the incredulous, sleepy look his ward cast at him. "Before you attend to Arthur, I need you to collect some things for me - a certain variety of mushroom that grows at the edge of the Darkling Woods. If you hurry, you will be able to fetch them for me and still make it to Arthur on time."

Groaning, Merlin very nearly rolled out of bed and somehow managed to arrange his feet beneath him in a semblance of standing. "What happened to taking it easy on my first day back?" he grumbled, feeling about in his cupboard for a relatively clean shirt.

"Picking mushrooms _is_ easy," Gaus insisted, barely giving Merlin time to tie his neckerchief before ushering him out of his bedroom door. "I dare say the fresh air will do your body some good."

"Oh, so you're doing me a favor."

If Gaius detected the sarcasm in Merlin's voice, he did a good job of hiding it. "Indeed. And here-" An apple was placed into his hand. "Be sure to eat it all. You need all the nutrients you can get."

"Mmm-hmm," Merlin mumbled over a mouthful of fruit. Merlin's stomach had been rather off since he'd drank the poison - apparently the antidote didn't completely flush his system of the effects of drinking from a cup tainted with the Morteus flower. He'd just graduated back to solid foods recently, and Merlin was beginning to tire of the long, critical glances he would receive regularly from his mentor, often preceding a thin-lipped remark about how he'd lost more weight than he could afford. Apparently his concerns had spread to Merlin's other friends as well, as Morgana had ordered a full meal fit for royals just yesterday evening and stood over him, arms crossed, until he'd eaten all he could handle.

Though it pained him to admit it, Gaius appeared to have been right. The fresh morning air, still damp with dew, reinvigorated Merlin. He woke up completely on his stroll to the woods' edge, and even found himself humming a chipper tune as he foraged for the mushrooms Gaius had requested: "The small white ones, Merlin, _not_ the large, brown ones. Make sure you remember correctly this time."

Well, Gaius had been right about the fresh air right up until the beaked, winged beast from hell attacked. It came seemingly out of nowhere, barrelling out of the deeper wood on bird-like, taloned front feet and great lumbering back paws, its tawny hide and lion's tail transitioning to bronze feathers and an eagle's head. Merlin was reminded vaguely of the description Arthur had given of the creature he'd fought - the cockatrice - when on the quest for the Morteus leaf. Before Merlin had time to reflect further, or, more importantly, to think up a spell - any spell - that might save his life - the creature was upon him, reared back on feline haunches, deadly talons raised to strike, and all Merlin could think to do was frantically crab-walk backwards, far too slowly, and his magic seemed to have retreated in fear, and what spell would be effective against this monster, anyway?

Just as the creature was poised to strike, another figure launched into the clearing, sword held aloft, a battlecry heralding his attack. The beast's attention diverted, it turned to the newcomer, screeching as only a bird of prey can, claws slashing, beak snapping angrily at the attack. The warrior dodged the onslaught with a fluidity that Merlin had only ever seen Arthur exhibit in training, then lunged the sword into the creature's flank.

He tried to, anyway. The weapon snapped like a twig upon meeting the beast's hide, and the monster made another infuriated leap at Merlin's rescuer, who skirted out of the way just in time, then sprinted right at Merlin, grabbed his arm, and pulled him along, yelling "RUN!"

Merlin respected a fighter who knew when to make a tactical retreat just as much - more even - than one who stubbornly fought to the bitter end, and picked up the pace, leaping in tandem with the stranger over a fallen log into a small ditch. Together, they huddled in the natural alcove until the sounds of the monster's angry snarls were replaced with beating wings and finally faded into the distance - up and away.

Breathing heavily, Merlin turned to face his rescuer, to see him fully for the first time. He was young, Merlin noted first, probably close to Arthur's own age, with dark, kind eyes, the shadow on his jaw of a man who hadn't shaved in a few days, and dark hair. Like Merlin, he was gasping for air, clutching at a stitch in his side. "You saved me," Merlin grinned. "Thank you!"

"I'm… Lancelot," was the labored response.

"Merlin."

"Nice to meet you, Merlin." The friendly greeting was brought to an abrupt halt as Lancelot lifted his hand away from the stitch in his side, revealing that he had not escaped from his fight unscathed. His right hand, as well as his lower left abdomen, was streaked with red. "I think it got me," he admitted, his voice fading into silence as his eyes fluttered closed.

* * *

It took close to an hour for Merlin to get his new friend back to Camelot. The trek to the woods had been quick, but with an injured man much heavier than Merlin fading in and out of consciousness slung over the already weakened servant's shoulder, it was mid-morning by the time Merlin and Lancelot collapsed through Gaius's door, into a heap on the floor.

"Merlin!" the old physician exclaimed, helping the exhausted boy to his feet and then beckoning for Merlin to help him hoist the unconscious stranger onto the patient's cot. "I send you to pick mushrooms, and you come back with a fully-grown man! Explain yourself!"

As Merlin recounted his adventure in the forest, Gaius examined his new patient, lifting his tunic to reveal an ugly, but thankfully shallow, slash across the left side of his torso. "You are lucky to have escaped with your lives," Gaius pronounced gravely. Merlin had noticed more than once that his mentor had quite the knack for stating the obvious.

"What about Lancelot?" Merlin asked, and Gaius saw true worry in his ward's eyes. "Will he be all right?"

"The wound is shallow," Gaius answered, "and you got him to me before infection could fester. He will be sore, but after a good night's rest, he should be on his feet tomorrow."

Merlin's grin was infectious, but Gaius was a master at fighting against infections of all kinds and merely lifted an eyebrow at the young man. "I will take care of your new friend," he said, "but you, Merlin, need to get to Arthur. He came in here not long ago demanding to know why you weren't attending him."

Merlin winced. "Was he angry?"

Rolling his eyes, Gaius acknowledged, "I daresay he was, but I think he might have been a bit concerned that you were still too unwell to return to work."

Merlin gave a hopeful half-smile that Gaius immediately crushed with his next statement: "Of course, he became truly angry after I informed him that you were lollygagging in the forest."

Merlin's mouth fell open in indignation. "You were the one who sent me there!" he protested. Gaius noted in amusement that his voice had lifted quite significantly in pitch. "And it wasn't my fault I wasn't back sooner - I was being attacked by a lion-bird thing!"

"I couldn't have known that." Despite the haughtiness in his voice, Gaius, found himself fighting a smile as he regarded his ward. "Now, stop wasting time. I'll inform the king about the attack and begin researching the creature; Uther needs to know if there is a threat such as this so close to Camelot."

* * *

Arthur's irritation flared up as his servant burst into his chambers, but it dimmed somewhat when he noticed how pale, skinny, and exhausted the boy looked. Still, it wouldn't do to let the secret sorcerer know that he was concerned, especially after he'd ruined Arthur's plans to drop the truth on him first thing in the morning. Arthur had cleared his morning, knowing that he and the servant would have a lot to talk about, but Merlin had been so late that the prince was going to have to delay this discussion - again - as he would be having lunch with his father shortly.

"What the hell is wrong with you, _Mer_ lin?" Arthur snapped, rising to his feet so that he could glare imperiously down upon his servant.

Merlin, at least, had the propriety to look at least slightly sheepish. He even offered an apology, which surprised his master even more. "Sorry, Arthur. Gaius sent me to pick mushrooms this morning and-"

"And he said you should have been back in time for work," Arthur finished dryly. "So what happened? Did you see a butterfly and have to chase it?" The royal's words were iced thickly with sarcasm.

Adopting a more defensive stance, arms crossed over his chest, Merlin retorted with more of his usual spirit (the concerned part of Arthur breathed a quick sigh of relief), "That 'butterfly' was from the pits of hell, and it did the chasing, thank you very much. I'm lucky to be alive!"

Thoroughly nonplussed, Arthur managed, "There… there _was_ a butterfly? What are you _on_ about, Merlin?" He fought the urge to stride forward and feel the servant's forehead. Was he having a relapse from the poison? Was he feverish, hallucinating?

Merlin's response sent chills down his spine. "Not a butterfly. It was… something else."

True concern creeping over him, Arthur growled, "If you're making this up as an excuse to get out of trouble…"

"I swear I'm not. You can ask Gaius. He's treating the man who saved my life."

Arthur's eyes widened as he realized how sincere his servant was, and also how close of a call Merlin seemed to have had. The prince couldn't help but wonder why Merlin had needed saving, though - why hadn't his magic been enough? The thought of a creature so powerful that Merlin hadn't been able to fight it off at all sent real fear racing through Arthur's body.

"Who?" the prince asked, trying to put his thoughts in some kind of order.

"His name is Lancelot," Merlin supplied. "He was injured in the fight, but Gaius said he'll be just fine. He saved me," he repeated.

"So I heard," Arthur grumbled. "Not sure if I should thank him or punish him." He rose and headed for the door, knowing that he had to speak to his father as soon as possible. Merlin's story could only spell trouble for Camelot.

Ignoring the jab, Merlin followed closely behind Arthur as the prince left the room. "But the thing, Arthur, the creature that attacked us was like nothing I've ever seen! It was half-bird-"

"Please don't say half-lizard," Arthur pleaded, recalling with perfect clarity the ferocity of the cockatrice. Then again, he had killed it fairly swiftly, so maybe another wouldn't be so bad.

Any hopeful thoughts were cast aside at Merlin's response. "No. It was more like a lion."

Arthur's heart sunk. "How big was it?"

Merin's answer was not even slightly encouraging. "Bloody massive."

Shaking his head, Arthur accused, "You just attract trouble, don't you, Merlin? First the clay monster, then the poison, and now this?"

Arthur could hear the pout in Merlin's voice. "It's not _my_ fault. I'm just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

 _Or maybe the right place at the right time,_ Arthur couldn't help but add in his mind. After all, the first two instances had resulted in Merlin's saving Arthur's own life - even Camelot. The prince thought grimly that it was quite likely that Camelot would end up needing Merlin's help with this one too.

* * *

Lancelot was awake when Merlin got home from work. Merlin found him alone, flipping through one of Gaius's many tomes at the table. He stood when Merlin entered, something that the servant had never experienced from anyone in his life and that threw him completely off guard.

"Merlin." Lancelot's voice was steady and strong now that he was on the mend, and it had a warmth that further affirmed that Merlin was right to trust him.

"How are you feeling?" Merlin asked.

"Much better, thank you. Gaius does his work well." Merlin thought fondly that he had never met a man as polite as Lancelot.

Crossing to the stove, where Merlin was pleased to see that Gaius had warmed some stew, he agreed. "Sorry that I wasn't here when you woke up," he offered. "After he heard about what happened to us this morning, Arthur dragged me to the council room and made me recount everything to his father." Wrinkling his nose, he added, "And then I spent the rest of the day mucking Arthur's horses, washing his dirty socks, polishing his armor…"

"Wait - did you say Arthur? As in the prince?" Lancelot questioned. Merlin turned from spooning stew into a bowl at the eagerness in his voice.

"Uh, yeah."

"You know Prince Arthur?"

"Yes, I'm his servant. But I promise, he's not _that_ impressive. Trust me, you'll get tired of him really quickly."

Lancelot didn't laugh, but the intensity in his eyes softened a bit. Merlin, a bowl in each hand, slid one across the table to his new friend and kept one for himself. Sinking onto the bench across from Lancelot, he questioned, "Why are you so keen to meet him, anyway?"

A small sigh puffed from the other man's lips and he dropped his eyes to the food in front of him. He didn't seem very interested in eating. "It's just… I came here hoping for a chance to speak to him face-to-face. All my life, I've dreamed of-"

The front door opened and Gaius bustled in, a basket of empty vials clinking in his weathered hands. "Sorry, hold that thought," Merlin interrupted apologetically.

As Merlin helped Gaius with his load, the old man glanced over to the table and nodded approvingly. "Good, you're both eating. You need to keep up your strength." Addressing Lancelot: "It's nice to see you awake. Merlin tells me you saved his life this morning."

A faint blush peppered Lancelot's face. "I didn't do much of anything, really. I only helped him escape - my weapon would not touch the beast."

Gaius puttered to the stove and started doling out his own dinner. "So Merlin said. I am researching the creature now so that when the knights of Camelot inevitably face it, they will know how to kill it."

At the mention of the knights, Merlin noted that Lancelot's eyes lit up, and he connected the dots from their previous conversation. "Oh, I get it!" he exclaimed suddenly, sliding over to make room for Gaius at the table. "You want to join the knights! That's why you're asking about Arthur."

Lancelot nodded. "All my life I have trained for this moment. It has always seemed to be a distant dream, but now I feel like it must be fate. The first person I met upon approaching Camelot was you, Merlin, the personal servant of the head of the knights. Perhaps it is meant to be after all!"

Beaming, Merlin agreed, "You'll make an excellent knight, Lancelot! I'll speak with Arthur first thing in the morning and-" He broke off as an especially grave-looking Gaius cleared his throat. "What's wrong, Gaius?"

Ignoring Merlin's question, Gaius instead turned to Lancelot. "Tell me, Lancelot - do you happen to be of noble birth?"

After a moment of stunned silence, Lancelot shook his head, his eyes twinkling. "Oh, no." He chuckled, then reinforced, "Good Lord, no." The knowing frown on Gaius's face quelled his amusement at once. "Why do you ask?"

Merlin watched as Lancelot's jovial spirit was crushed with Gaius's next statement: "It is the First Code of Camelot, I'm afraid. Only those from a noble family can be knighted."

Lancelot's gaze fell once more to his uneaten stew. "I see."

Merlin, however, was not cowed so easily. "That's rubbish!" he proclaimed. "Who says that nobles are the only ones good enough to fight for Camelot? I _saw_ Lancelot fight," he entreated Gaius. "He was as good and brave as Arthur! Why shouldn't he have the chance to fulfill his dream?"

Gaius glared out at his ward from behind bushy, indignant eyebrows. "You seem to forget that I am not the all-powerful sovereign of this land, Merlin," he deadpanned. "Do not give me grief for a law that I did not create." His expression softened, and he patted Merlin gently on the arm. "I am sorry, my boy - to you as well, Lancelot - but when Camelot was still young, the king did not know who to trust, so he decreed that only those from families that he knew well - those of noble bloodlines - were to protect his kingdom. It has always been this way."

Merlin scoffed. "And because it's always been this way, that's how it will always be? Gaius, that way of thinking is backwards and wrong! You're telling me that Uther is going to pass up a worthy fighter who will protect his kingdom to the end because of some stupid, archaic old tradition?"

Unimpressed by Merlin's impassioned speech, Gaius once again reminded him, "I don't make the rules, Merlin. I just live here." He glanced at Merlin's half-empty bowl and Lancelot's untouched one. "There's nothing but to move on, unfortunately," he advised. "Now, eat, both of you. Merlin, you still aren't back to your full strength, and Lancelot, you need energy to help you heal." When neither despondent young man moved, the old physician barked, " _Eat!_ "

Reluctantly, both Merlin and Lancelot did as Gaius said, but as soon as he had moved away from the table, both men set down their spoons. "I'm sorry, Lancelot," Merlin murmured. Although he knew it to be irrational, he felt like he was somehow to blame for letting Lancelot down. "I didn't realize."

The smile Lancelot flashed him in return was obviously forced, but he backed it up with words that radiated nothing but understanding and acceptance. "It's not your fault, my friend. Who am I to say what is or is not fair in a kingdom I am not even from? I did not write its laws, and I do not rule it, so I cannot speak on whether a law should be in place."

Thinking of another law, just as unjust, Merlin muttered, "Sometimes you don't have to be in charge to know that laws are unfair." Lancelot looked at him quizzically, but Merlin shook his head and asked, "So why do you want to be a knight so badly, anyway?"

He almost regretted asking as Lancelot's dark eyes clouded over with pain. "When I was a child, my village was attacked by bandits. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before. These bandits were different - they came in droves and fought like they had been trained. My… my family was killed in the attack. I lost my parents, and my younger sister."

Tears pricked the corners of Merlin's eyes. His chest ached at the very thought. "I'm so sorry, Lancelot."

"After I barely escaped the attack with my life, I wanted nothing more than to avenge my parents' death, but I was young and weak, and the bandits disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared. So I set my sights on a more attainable goal: Instead of revenge, I would train more and work harder than anyone before me, and one day, I would dedicate my life to protecting innocents like my family, and what better way than to become a knight of the great Camelot? I could prove my worth, prove that I could rise above the misfortune that had befallen me, and help to create a brighter future for those around me." He sighed, a heavy, broken sound. "I suppose I should have actually found out the requirements for becoming a knight before setting my aspirations so high."

Merlin considered this, an idea - a risky, reckless idea - forming in his mind. "Don't give up hope just yet, Lancelot," he ordered. "There may be a way yet."

Lancelot tilted his head in confusion, but Merlin just grinned conspiratorially. "Just trust me," he said, and to his surprise, that's exactly what Lancelot did.

* * *

The next morning, Merlin promised Lancelot that he would take him to meet Arthur during the knights' training, and then left to wake Arthur up. He hoped to find Arthur in a good mood, but the prince seemed irritable and distracted from the moment his head left the pillow. "On time for once, are we, Merlin?" he grumbled as his servant picked out his clothes for the day. He'd be training the knights after lunch, so Merlin opted for a simple tunic the prince didn't mind getting dirty.

Merlin sent Arthur a dark look. "Why is it that you're just as unhappy when I'm on time as you are when I'm late?"

"Maybe because you being on time shouldn't be a cause for celebration at all," was the sharp response. "It's a normal part of working a job."

"Funny, I've never seen you work a day in your life." The warlock knew very well that this wasn't true, but usually his good-natured jibes helped cheer Arthur up or distracted him from whatever was weighing on his mind. This time, it didn't work.

"Yeah, well, if you'd actually pay attention to what's going on around you once in a while," the prince growled. "Are you nearly finished?" Merlin quickly replaced Arthur's night shirt with the tunic and stepped back.

"Done." He considered Arthur carefully for a long moment. "Is everything all right, Arthur?" The earnest concern in his voice appeared to work where his teasing hadn't.

Sighing, Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face and meandered over to the table, where his breakfast was waiting. "It's fine, I suppose." When Merlin kept watching him expectantly, he heaved another great breath and clarified, "It's my father. Gaius visited him at first light with news that the creature could be one of magic."

"He mentioned that last night," Merlin acknowledged carefully. "What does that mean?"

An almost calculating look in his eyes as he regarded his servant, Arthur supplied, "According to Gaius, it means that the creature might only be defeated with magic, which of course the king did not take well to."

The probing gaze that Arthur sent his way unnerved Merlin more than he was willing to admit. It was as if Arthur was seeing him - _truly_ seeing him - for the first time since they had met. Like he was waiting for something to happen, or for Merlin to do or say something. Although he had no idea what Arthur was hoping for, the servant felt he had to say _something_. "But," he said, almost timidly, "magic is outlawed in Camelot."

The expectancy in Arthur's piercing blue eyes devolved into something closer to disappointment, and for some reason Merlin felt his heart racing even though he was standing still. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to change his mind at the last minute, closed it, and then asked, "Have you eaten?" The abrupt change of subject caught Merlin completely off-guard.

He blinked. "What?"

"You look even scrawnier than usual. It's hideous to behold," Arthur regarded his servant critically, though there was some jest in his voice. "You look like you could keel over and die at any moment."

It was then that Merlin recognized the sudden shift of topic and the well-intentioned criticism for what it truly was - an olive branch of sorts. What Arthur was offering Merlin a way out of, the servant wasn't sure, but he took it anyway.

"Are you offering to share?" he asked, making a show of ogling the tray of fruits, cheeses, and pastries.

Arthur scoffed. "Absolutely not. It's not my job to make sure you take care of yourself. It's Gaius's."

Offended, Merlin shot back, "I can take care of myself! It's no one's job but my own."

His upper lip curling, Arthur's comeback was swift: "Then you're almost as bad at that job as you are your actual one."

Ouch. And they were back at square one. Regardless, Merlin was much more comfortable on this semblance of solid ground - bickering and all - than he was earlier, when Arthur had been regarding him in a new way, very close to how Morgana had looked at him after finding out his secret. That almost … respect, and high scrutiny were so out of place that Merlin felt much better being insulted by the Arthur he knew rather than regarded so strangely by this new, overly serious version of him.

Arthur began to eat then, and to Merlin's surprise, about halfway through, he tossed an apple his servant's way.

"I thought you weren't going to share," Merlin teased.

"I'm full," the prince lied through his teeth - and a mouth full of bread.

Despite being tired of everyone trying to fatten him up after his illness, Merlin couldn't help but smile, and decided that now that Arthur was in a better temper, now might be the best time to ask him about Lancelot. After all, if he could get Arthur to make an exception, then he might not have to do the illegal and dangerous part of his plan.

"Arthur?"

"Mmmm?"

"I was wondering… what does it take to become a knight?"

Arthur very nearly choked on his breakfast. As Merlin pounded the hacking prince on the back, Arthur's coughing turned to laughter. " _You_ , Merlin? You're wanting to be a knight now? Is being the prince's manservant not as interesting of a job to show up late to every day?" Merlin started to respond, but Arthur barreled over him, "Besides, you'd make a _terrible_ knight. You have absolutely no strength, you're untrained, can barely hold a sword, and I bet you faint at the sight of blood."

"I don't," Merlin argued, "but don't worry. I'd rather you not chase me around with a mace any more than strictly necessary. I'm not asking for me. It's … hypothetical."

He could tell that Arthur immediately knew that it was not hypothetical at all, but to his surprise, he went with it. "All right… if you must know, a knight of Camelot has to be strong, courageous, battle-ready, willing at any moment to put his life on the line for his king, his kingdom, and the innocents he has sworn to protect."

"Great, I -"

" _And_ he must be of a noble bloodline."

Merlin tried not to let his disappointment shine too fiercely. "Okay, but," he propositioned, "What if he was all those things you just mentioned, except for the noble part, and he was really, _really_ polite?"

"Polite?" Arthur was visibly unimpressed.

"You know, polite. A genuinely good person?"

Arthur shook his head slowly. "A fine quality, to be sure, but the First Code of Camelot is that all knights must be nobles."

"What if he was also a hero?" Merlin asked, knowing he was treading a thin line and that Arthur was bound to catch on if he wasn't more careful.

"Merlin, is this about the man who saved you from the creature? Lancelot, was it?" Oops. Perhaps he hadn't been careful enough. Before Merlin could respond, Arthur continued, "I'm sorry, Merlin, but no matter how special of a person you think this man is, if he isn't of noble blood, then he cannot join the knights."

Mind made up about his next move, Merlin backpedaled quickly. "Oh, no, Lancelot _is_ a noble."

Arthur was not convinced. He stood, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared knowingly at his servant. "Right. And all of that talk about letting in a good man without noble blood was merely … _hypothetical_?"

Having already committed, Merlin saw no reason to back down despite how flimsy his defense had become. "I told you it was," he nodded. "I was just making sure that you only let in the best of the best."

"You are a terrible liar."

"I'm serious!" Merlin insisted. "I'll bring him to meet you today. And…" He thought back to what he had learned in his research last night about noble houses and crests and seals, then continued, "He'll have his seal of nobility to prove it."

Arthur's eyes widened a fraction, and Merlin celebrated at having finally caught him off-guard. "Well then," he said slowly, "I expect to see you both - on time - on the training field this afternoon. We'll see then." He slid the tray closer to Merlin. "Now, take this back to the kitchens and have my armor collected and brought to the training grounds by noon."

* * *

As Merlin left the room, a pep in his walk, Arthur narrowed his eyes. Merlin was up to something. He didn't know what it was, but he had become quite good at knowing when Merlin was lying - which was, admittedly, all the time regarding his magic.

He just hoped that whatever the sorcerer had up his sleeve, it wouldn't cause any trouble - for Arthur, for Camelot, or even for Merlin himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first part of "Lancelot"! I promise that Arthur is going to reveal his knowledge of Merlin's magic in the very near future - you won't have to wait much longer! Also, some people have asked me if this is going to turn into Mergana, and eventually I plan on it, since that seems to be the direction of the show might have been heading if Morgana hadn't turned. I'm not listing romance or any ships at the moment because that's not what's most important right now, but eventually this story will have some elements of Mergana and Arwen. Overall, though, romance is not the main focus of this story.
> 
> Thank you to RaissaPL, cdnacho98, Minuilin, Anxientyisme, Sampika, EggArts, magzawagzalot, and TheLostArchangel for your wonderful comments so far! Thank you as well to everyone who has read, given kudos, and bookmarked. I apologize for not responding personally to reviews; my spare time has been taken up by writing this fic!
> 
> Finally, I wanted to mention something that I forgot in my A/N for the last chapter: Arthur's horse's name in this story is Anwyn, which I derived from Annwn, which itself stems back to the first known iteration of Arthurian legend, The Spoils of Annwn or The Cauldron of Annwn, an ancient Welsh poem. Just a fun nerdy tidbit I enjoyed putting in there. :)
> 
> Anyway, please review and let me know what you thought of this part. There will be two more parts to "Lancelot" (already written). I'm also already part way through writing "A Remedy to Cure All Ills" at the moment, too, so you should continue to see regular updates! Thanks so much for your support, everyone - it means the world!
> 
> ~Emachinescat ^..^


	5. Lancelot, Part Two

It was a stroke of good fortune that Merlin happened to run into Morgana on his way to Camelot's library.

"Merlin!" she smiled, and a warmth spread throughout the warlock's body at how genuinely pleased she appeared to be to see him. Over the past month or so, he had grown more at ease with being around the beautiful noblewoman, though he still tread very carefully around her and tried to avoid too much familiarity. She seemed to have no such reservations, and greeted him like an old friend, not like a servant, whenever she saw him.

Merlin had the feeling that this wasn't just because he had magic, however; she had always been kind to him even before she discovered the truth. Having the shared bond over his secret had certainly propelled them into being friends faster than Merlin would have anticipated, and the more time they spent together, talking about magic, or how annoying Arthur was, or anything, really, the more he discovered just how much he liked being around her.

"Lady Morgana," he greeted her formally, and she rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, Merlin, at this point I would think you would be tired of formality. We're _friends_ ," she reminded him. "Even Gwen doesn't tag my title onto my name whenever she speaks to me."

"Ah, but Gwen is your servant, and has been your friend for years now. I'm the weird village boy who became the prince's servant by mere chance, and the king doesn't like me much anyway, _and_ I'm a man, which means I'm automatically not trusted around noblewomen. I have to keep up appearances, for propriety's sake."

Morgana eyed him disbelievingly. "You call me 'my lady' even when no one else is around."

The truth was that Merlin had spent his entire life being told that he wasn't enough by pretty much everyone but his mother, and just his position as a servant made him, in the eyes of society, entirely unworthy of a noble's friendship. Things were different with Arthur, since Merlin was his servant and they had a strange relationship that many nobles and servants alike scratched their heads at. Plus, he was a prat, and apparently it was Merlin's destiny to make him _not_ a prat, so there was that.

But Morgana… She was beautiful, a noblewoman, the ward of the king, admired by men of much greater standing than Merlin himself. She was intimidating, even in her kindness, and Merlin truly cherished their blossoming friendship. He was terrified of overstepping any bounds or having his intentions misunderstood, first because he did not want Morgana to change her mind about him, but also because he didn't want to be seen or heard being too familiar with her, because despite all that was against him presently, he really liked his life and didn't want to lose it over a misunderstanding.

Unable to think of a way to explain this to Morgana without seeming completely paranoid or hurting her feelings, he opted for humor, "You never know who could be listening at a door or lurking invisible in a corner," he protested. Granted, he still came across as paranoid, but only in a joking way.

"Gwen was right - you are strange," Morgana observed with a chuckle, and Merlin ducked his head sheepishly. "Not that it's a bad thing." She then turned serious. "It looks like you were going somewhere in a hurry. What is Arthur having you do now?"

"Oh, this isn't for Arthur," Merlin quickly waved the idea off. "I'm just checking on something, for a friend."

If Morgana were curious, she didn't show it. "I won't keep you, then. Perhaps we can talk at a later time."

She made to continue on her way, but Merlin stopped her. "Before you go," he said, "can I ask you a question?"

Morgana turned to face him. "Of course."

"I was just wondering… what do you think of the First Code of Camelot?"

Her expression harbored surprise for a split second at his question, but her elegant face quickly smoothed over. "You mean the law that only nobility can fight for Camelot?"

"That's the one."

She considered this for several long moments. "Honestly, I've never understood it," she answered finally. "Nobility has never been a matter of blood to me, but a matter of heart. I have seen royal men do terrible things, and I have heard tales of common men doing selfless acts. At one time, it might have made sense to only enlist members of families that could be trusted by the king, but Camelot is strong now. It would be even stronger if it acknowledged the worth of _all_ its citizens, not just those of nobility… Does that answer your question?"

Merlin stared at her in awe, her words bolstering the longing for justice he had felt after his conversation with Lancelot last night, and he found himself wishing not for the first time that Uther shared her open mind and gallant ideas for the future. She was a noblewoman, but she stood up for those who most people of her rank looked down upon - magic users, commoners, the persecuted. He realized with a start that she was waiting for him to answer, and he shook himself out of his amazement. "Yes! I believe the same; thank you!" Should he ask her the other question that he so desperately wanted to? Or would she see through him, or feel he was going too far with his idealism, even for her?

Like Merlin often did, he chose to blunder on ahead anyway and hope for the best. "So… if you think that it is unfair for commoners to be barred from becoming knights, do you think it is okay for them to do whatever it takes to change that? Do you believe it is wrong for a person of strong character who only wants to serve to use deception just to get through the door?"

Morgana contemplated this, her expression unreadable, and Merlin feared that he had said too much. He was preparing to tell her never mind, that it was just a stupid hypothetical question and to forget about it, please, when she answered at last. "I cannot say for sure, because while I question the code that says only nobles can become knights, I have to wonder if deception is the best way to elicit change. After all, even the best-told lies are often discovered, and if that were to happen, progress towards equality could not only be halted, but erased." A tightness clenched Merlin's heart - he had been sure Morgana would be his unwitting champion in justifying what he was planning to do. With a wink, she added, "Though who's to say if I am right? Perhaps you need to do what _you_ feel is right, damn the consequences."

Merlin felt as if he were tottering at the edge of a very dangerous cliff. "Oh, no," he stammered, doing his best to avoid being consumed by the panic. "I'm not doing anything. This has nothing to do with me." _I have to stop letting my guard down around people like this. This is the second time this morning I've let something slip!_ he chided himself furiously.

Morgana, to her credit, didn't question or egg him on like Arthur had. Instead, she turned, shrugged one shoulder, and called back, "Whatever you do, Merlin, just be careful."

Merlin watched her, agog, until she reached the end of the hallway and turned a corner, out of sight.

* * *

The rest of the way to the library, Merlin brooded on what Morgana had said. There was no doubt that she knew he was up to something, or at least that he was considering being up to something, but she had neither outright condoned nor condemned him for it, even without knowing what that something was. The fact that she was affording him this level of trust staggered him. He didn't really know what he had done to deserve it, but now he was plagued with the issue of what would happen to their friendship if he made the wrong choice and messed things up.

Still, he resolved as he approached the great double-doors that led to Camelot's vast pantheon of knowledge (and the grumpy old man who guarded it), this was for Lancelot. Although Morgana might have been right in that deception may not be the best way to make change happen, sitting around and doing nothing would certainly not help anything. This way, Lancelot could become a knight and work to change hearts and minds from the inside. Once he had become an invaluable asset to the knights - slain the creature, perhaps, or some other heroic deed - then he could reveal the truth and Uther could see that nobility did not just lie in the hearts of those in power.

Yes, it was deception, but it was a necessary deception, Merlin was sure of it now. It was sacrificing a bit of integrity for the greater good. He had no difficulty believing that Lancelot was to his core _good_ , and once he proved himself, the rest of the kingdom would see it, too. Besides, he owed the man for saving his life when his own magic had failed him.

He couldn't wait to tell Lancelot about his plan, couldn't wait to see his reaction to learning that he could try out for the knights, after all. He would be so pleased.

* * *

"No," said Lancelot about half an hour later, crossing his arms. The way that he looked at the forged seal of nobility Merlin dangled in front of him was a mixture of longing and revulsion.

Merlin couldn't believe what he was hearing. "No? But Lancelot, you said it yourself: You've always dreamed of becoming a knight. This way, you can!"

"I appreciate what you're trying to do for me, Merlin - I have no idea what kind of trouble you went through to obtain such an official looking document - but what you're suggesting is dishonest. How can I expect to be a knight, a man who fights for Camelot with _honor_ , if I am only admitted because of a lie?"

"You're looking at this the wrong way," Merlin prodded. He felt kind of bad pressuring the man, but Lancelot was about to give up on his dream, a dream that he was more than worthy of. "You'll still have to prove yourself a worthy opponent against Arthur in order to be accepted as a knight. The seal is only a formality, something to open the door. You'll be stepping through that door of your own merit." He could tell that Lancelot was wavering, torn between his honor and his life's work, so he pushed harder. "And once you prove yourself as a knight, that seal won't matter anymore at all. Everyone will know that you deserve to be there because of who you are and what you can do, not a silly piece of parchment that means nothing when it comes to true valor!"

He saw the moment Lancelot's resolve cracked.

"All right," he said, a faint weight in his voice but a twinkle in his eyes. "All right." He held out a hand for the scroll; Merlin bestowed his faked birthright upon him.

"Great!" Merlin cheered. "Now, we have to hurry - Arthur will really kill me this time if I'm late again!"

* * *

"Now's your chance." Merlin nudged Lancelot in the back, toward Arthur, who had just pummeled yet another prospective knight. When Lancelot hesitated, Merlin pushed again. "Go on!"

Spine stiff, head held high, Lancelot strode toward the prince. "Prince Arthur," he greeted, bowing. "My name is-"

"Lancelot," the prince supplied, catching the other man off guard. At the look of surprise on Lancelot's face, the prince reminded him, "My servant mentioned you." He looked the newcomer up and down, head to toe, making sure to take his time - one of his favorite intimidation tactics he used to rattle over-confident upstarts. After a long thirty seconds, he met Lancelot's dark eyes and asked, "Do you have your seal of nobility?"

He clearly hadn't been expecting Lancelot to produce the scroll so immediately - or maybe even at all - as surprise manifested on his face before his eyes flickered suspiciously from Lancelot to his servant watching eagerly from the sidelines. Merlin mouthed, _Told you so_. Arthur ignored him.

He examined the scroll for a long time. "The fifth son of Lord Eldric?" he asked at last, gaze darting back to Lancelot's face. "I didn't realize he had five sons. I've only met the four." Lancelot didn't respond, but to his credit, he managed not to appear guilty, either. Arthur considered him for a while longer, then handed the scroll back. "I'm glad to have met you at last," the prince said finally.

Lancelot took the seal back, and the moment he did, Arthur struck. Lancelot had not even seen Arthur reach for the empty waterskin, so focused on the conversation, and when the leather slapped across his face, it took him completely off-guard. He staggered to the chorus of surrounding gasps at the unprovoked attack and turned to face Arthur, bewildered, trying his hardest not to touch his stinging cheek.

"Sluggish responses," Arthur observed in a clipped tone. He glanced again from Merlin - who was in turn glaring indignantly back at him - to Lancelot. "Not aware enough of your surroundings. That will get you killed on the battlefield. A knight must always be on the lookout for danger and prepared for battle at all times. You're not ready."

"But, Sire," Lancelot argued as the prince turned his back. "I _can_ do this. I am strong and capable. Allow me to prove myself, please."

Arthur kept his back to the man, but answered, "Fine. If you really want to serve Camelot, you can start with the royal stables. They need mucked, and the horses need tended to." A slight chuckle rose up from the rest of the knights. The prince called out, "Training is over. Good work men." He left, Merlin casting Lancelot an apologetic look as he scurried after him.

* * *

Furious, Merlin turned on Arthur the moment the door to the prince's chambers closed behind them. "Why were you so hard on Lancelot?" he demanded, fists on his hips. Arthur shrugged off his sweaty tunic and tossed it at Merlin's head. Merlin caught it on reflex but didn't yield. "You always at least give prospective knights a chance to prove themselves! Why didn't you this time?"

Irritation bubbling in his voice, Arthur snapped, "I don't have to explain myself to you, _Mer_ lin. It seems that you have once again forgotten that I am the _prince_ , and you are a _servant_."

Merlin didn't budge. "Is it because I'm the one who brought him to you?"

Arthur turned to him, eyebrows raised. "What?"

"Is it because I want him to be a knight? Do you really hate me that much?"

"Seriously, Merlin," Arthur sneered, "don't get a big head. I don't care enough about your opinion to let whether you endorsed a person affect my judgment on the matter."

"Well, you should," Merlin insisted stubbornly. He knew very well that he was toeing a fine line, but Arthur was being awfully unhelpful. "After all, I am the one who saw Lancelot fight. He saved my life, remember?" Merlin's eyes widened. "Were you serious before? Are you punishing him for saving me? If I feed myself to the beast, will you consider him?"

An odd expression formed on Arthur's face, his jaw working furiously. If Merlin didn't know the prince any better, he could have sworn that Arthur was trying not to laugh, or smile at least. "Maybe," he said lightly, then walked over and shoved Merlin's right shoulder playfully when he saw the offended expression on the servant's face. "After all, all you've done for the past ten minutes is berate me and overstep your bounds as a servant." He hesitated for a brief moment, then said, "Besides, there's something more pressing to discuss. I wanted to talk to you about that seal of nobility he showed me today."

Merlin's mouth went dry, but he managed to mostly maintain his composure on the outside as uncertainty reared its head. "Uh, okay. What about it?"

"I want to know where you got it from." Arthur's voice was light, but his eyes held a kind of hardness in them.

"Me? I didn't get it for him. It's his. It has his name on it," he reminded the prince.

"Just because something has someone's name on it doesn't mean it actually belongs to them," Arthur pointed out.

"It's his family seal, Arthur, what do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me the truth, dammit!" Arthur growled, throwing himself into his desk chair. "And get me a new shirt; it's chilly in here."

As Merlin did as he was told, heart pounding like the hoofbeats of an encroaching warhorse, he asked as mildly as possible, "About what?"

"About why you were asking so many questions this morning about the First Code, about how twitchy you've been about the whole subject, and about how I have never heard of Lord Eldric having a fifth son, and yet Lancelot happens to have a fresh seal from the Eldric line saying that he _is_ the fifth son?"

"Arthur, I don't know what you're-"

"I know you're trying to help a friend," Arthur said, somewhat more softly, "but if you want to see a change in the way things are done in Camelot, then there are better ways to do it."

"What do you want from me, Arthur?" Merlin asked, trying to keep his breathing in check, trying not to give in to the panic rising inside of him.

"I told you - _I want you to tell me the truth_!" Arthur shouted, half rising from his seat, all semblance of control gone in an instant. He sat back down, his face smoothing over almost immediately. A flare of regret lit up in his eyes, so short-lived that Merlin thought he might have imagined it.

"I have," Merlin said, and for a moment he was the very picture of a perfect servant - head bowed, hands behind his back. He lifted his eyes to meet Arthur's, and said steadily, "The seal is his. Lancelot is the fifth son of Lord Elric."

Arthur studied him, then dropped his own eyes and sighed. "I'm having dinner with my father and the council tonight, so I'll need my good boots shined and my blue tunic pressed before then."

"Arthur-"

"Hurry, Merlin, I haven't got all day."

Merlin hadn't been this unsure of where he stood with Arthur since the Valiant debacle, so he felt it best not to pursue this any further. He left the room, feeling Arthur's sharp gaze on his back long after he had closed the door.

* * *

Arthur could have kicked himself. He'd been relatively calm about this whole magic business almost from the beginning. Why was he suddenly getting angry and lashing out now, right when he was about to tell Merlin that he knew?

That, he knew, was the reason why. He had been planning on using the subject of Lancelot's seal to lead into the discussion on Merlin's magic, but his emotions had rebelled, sending him into a state of anger toward the servant that he hadn't felt even upon first learning of his magic. What was wrong with him? After all, he still trusted Merlin fully: Merlin had saved his life, had spent the last week recovering from a poison that he'd drank in Arthur's stead, and had treated Arthur like a person instead of a prince. Arthur considered him a friend, but of course wouldn't dare tell Merlin that anytime soon. Whatever small scrap of propriety that still existed in him would be extinguished at that knowledge.

Yes, that was it - even though he wanted to talk to Merlin about his magic, Arthur was afraid. They'd fallen into a strange but comfortable rhythm since Merlin had been called his servant. They bickered, Merlin supported Arthur no matter how ill-tempered the prince became with him, Arthur for some reason genuinely enjoyed the servant's company but refused to admit it aloud. Merlin took more liberties in talking to Arthur than anyone below his station had ever done. A part of Arthur feared what openly acknowledging what he knew would do to this rhythm. Maybe nothing would change, or maybe everything would. Deep down, Arthur wasn't ready to find out, so he had lashed out.

Of course, there was also the matter of the seal. There was no way it was real, Arthur was sure of it. Maybe, if Arthur didn't know what Merlin could do, he would have dismissed the fishiness of the situation, but knowing of Merlin's magic allowed Arthur a unique perspective. Somehow, Merlin had forged that seal using magic. Not only was this another blatant lie not to save his life but for a sort of personal gain, but Arthur was now in the frustrating position of having to decide what to do with this information.

This was the first time he'd seen evidence of Merlin's using magic for purposes that were non-altruistic, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit. Sure, he was forging official documents in order to help a friend, but that didn't make it right. Even if Arthur didn't agree with the First Code of Camelot, sneaking around and using magic to undermine the system in place wasn't the answer. Arthur chose to ignore the fact that magic itself was illegal, yet he himself was undermining the system by keeping Merlin's magic a secret. There would be time to ponder that later, after he found a way to sort this whole mess out.

* * *

"I'm so sorry, Lancelot," Merlin sighed late that evening. "I didn't expect Arthur to treat you so unfairly."

Lancelot offered the ghost of a smile. "You've done more for me than anyone else has before, Merlin. I thank you."

"But I failed," Merlin argued miserably.

"Perhaps it is best that you did." Both men looked up as Gaius entered the chambers, balancing a couple of large books. He set them down heavily on the table between Lancelot and Merlin. "After all, I warned you about getting involved, Merlin."

Not ready to hear "I told you so" from Gaius, Merlin abruptly changed the subject. "Have you learned anything more about the creature?" Gaius had been conferring with Geoffrey of Monmouth over a few of the library's tomes, cross-referencing them with some his own, for the past hour.

"Ah!" The old physician opened the top book and flipped to a marked page. "Yes, we believe we have figured it out. It is called, according to this ancient text, a _griffin_."

Merlin and Lancelot leaned over the book, nearly knocking heads. It took just a glance for them to both confirm Gaius's suspicions. "That's definitely it," Merlin said while Lancelot nodded in agreement. "Like a massive chicken spawned straight out of the underworld."

Gaius lifted an eyebrow at the colorful description. "Yes, well, beyond that, this text says that it is a creature of powerful magic, which seeks gold above all else and lines its nest with it. It is also a dangerous, ruthless hunter that can hunt on the ground like a lion or from the skies like a bird of prey.

"It says here that the ancient peoples drove its kind deep into the mountains long ago, but occasionally one will wander into more populated areas and attack villages and even kingdoms in search of more treasure." His face was grave. "If it is venturing this close to the citadel, it could mean that something has disturbed its nest or its treasure, and that it is making its way toward Camelot to search for more."

"Can it be reasoned with?" Merlin asked, noticing that his question was instantly met with bewildered glances from his companions. "What? Dragons can - I mean, I've _heard_ that dragons are sentient, that they are - were - intelligent enough to reason."

Regarding his ward suspiciously, Gaius answered slowly, "Although dragons were sentient creatures, there is nothing in this text to support the idea that the griffin is anything more than a basic beast with magical protection and a hunger for treasure." When Merlin still appeared unsure, Gaius asked, "Did the one that attacked you seem particularly interested in talking out your differences?"

Exchanging a glance with Lancelot, Merlin shook his head. "No, it just made a lot of terrifying noises and tried to eat us."

"So if we can't reason with it, and weapons break upon contact with its flesh like mine did, how are we supposed to defeat it?"

Merlin's heart sank when he saw how worried Gaius seemed. "Unfortunately, the only way to defeat a creature of magic such as this is _with_ magic."

Merlin swallowed heavily. "But Uther will never allow it. Arthur already said that his father was mad when the mere possibility of having to fight with magic was brought up."

"I can attest to that," Gaius agreed. "But if we cannot get him to see reason, then I truly fear for Camelot."

* * *

Uther did not see reason. No amount of logic would convince him that magic was the only way to combat the beast. He would not listen to Arthur or Morgana on the matter, and he dismissed Gaius outright.

"Find another way," he ordered before sending the physician away.

Two days later, a neighboring village was attacked, leaving two people dead, one missing, and many more injured. Arthur loaned Merlin to Gaius to help with the fallout, and Morgana sent Gwen to assist as well. It was a long and grueling day at the makeshift infirmary outside of the village. The devastation that resulted from the attack horrified Merlin; he, Gaius, Lancelot, Gwen, and some other volunteers spent the hottest part of the day binding wounds, distributing medicines, and helping sort through the rubble in the town. It was after dark by the time they arrived back in the citadel, Gaius veering for the king's chambers to give a report, Merlin and Lancelot making their way back to the physician's rooms with dragging feet.

Morgana was waiting for them at the door. Merlin straightened his slouching back upon seeing her and dusted off his filthy tunic. He knew he reeked of blood and sweat, and he was covered in dust and debris. Lancelot watched him out of the corner of his eye, a knowing grin toying with his lips.

"Lady Morgana!" Merlin exclaimed. "How long have you been here? I'm so sorry; we've been-"

"I know what you've been doing, Merlin, there's no need to explain yourself to me," she interrupted as Merlin opened the door and let her in. He and Lancelot followed. Concern crinkled the corners of her eyes. "How are the people?"

"It was bad." There was no point sugar-coating the truth. Besides, Morgana was exceptionally talented at seeing through half-truths and all-out lies alike.

Her eyes flickered to Lancelot, as dirty, sweaty, and smelly as Merlin. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Morgana."

"Lady Morgana," Lancelot greeted. He bowed. "It is an honor to meet you."

"You can call me Morgana," she insisted. "Any friend of Merlin is a friend of mine. You're Lancelot, correct?" He dipped his head. "I heard about how unfairly Arthur treated you. I heard that he didn't even give you the chance to prove yourself, despite your noble status." Merlin felt her pointed gaze on him and realized that she knew exactly what he had done. His face burned, but she didn't pursue the matter.

"I simply was not good enough, my lady," Lancelot said. "It was well within his right-"

"Please." As usual, Morgana didn't hold back. "Merlin told me what you did. It sounds like you fought bravely against the monster, and whatever his reasoning, he should have given you the chance to prove yourself."

"I appreciate that, my lady, but what's done is done. I will have to go elsewhere to pursue my dream if the prince continues with this course of action."

"Don't give up so easily," Morgana advised. "You may yet get the chance to prove yourself to him."

* * *

Morgana was right: Lancelot got the chance to redeem himself the very next morning, when the griffin attacked the citadel.

The fight was short-lived and unsuccessful: The knights' weapons glanced off of the griffin's feathery hide, inflicting no damage whatsoever. Arthur found himself cornered by the beast, ineffectively trying to stave it off with a broken weapon. The griffin reared back, connecting a blow to Arthur's chest that would have killed him if he hadn't been wearing full armor, knocking the prince to the ground.

As Arthur tried to regain his bearings and fight despite knowing he had no chance of surviving, Lancelot appeared, torch in hand, and charged straight at the creature, a fearsome war cry preceding his attack. Thank the gods, the griffin seemed to hate fire - it would have been helpful if Gaius's books had told them that - and after a few tense moments of Lancelot waving the torch and the griffin hissing and rearing back, it took to the sky with an angry screech.

They were safe for now, but it would be back, Arthur knew.

Lancelot helped him to his feet. "Are you okay, your highness?"

Rubbing his chest, feeling the deep gouges in the armor, Arthur realized just how lucky he was to be alive. He nodded curtly. "Thank you. You saved my life."

"I was just doing my duty, sire." There was no hint in his voice, no selfish intent, just solemn reverence. It was this that caught Arthur's attention. Lancelot hadn't done this to try to get Arthur to reconsider him for the knights. He had rushed into battle because it was the right thing to do. As much as it pained him to admit it, Merlin had been right. From everything Arthur was seeing, Lancelot deserved at least a chance to try out for the knights.

Before he could stop himself, he blurted, "Tomorrow, at noon. You will fight me then, for a chance to join the knights."

Lancelot's gratitude was almost enough to make Arthur forget the predicament he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

Arthur couldn't sleep that night. He kept switching between anger at Merlin for getting him into this situation in the first place and anger at himself for being so weak. Royal seal or not, Arthur knew the truth. By letting Lancelot try out for the knights, knowing that seal just _had_ to be forged, Arthur was flouting yet another important rule of Camelot, perhaps the most important after "no magic." What kind of prince would he be if he continued to defy his father's law?

And what if someone found out the truth about Lancelot after the fact? Not only would the man himself be in trouble, but if the king were to find out Arthur was complicit in the deception, that would only make matters worse for them all. If only Merlin hadn't dragged him into all of this with his irresponsible and selfish - yet somehow still selfless - use of magic! And then Arthur had had to go and let sentiment overtake him in a moment of high emotion after a battle. It was all a mess.

He supposed all he could do now was fight as hard against Lancelot as he could, even harder than normal, and make sure he beat the man. Then, Lancelot would be turned away from the knights, Arthur's morals and the kingdom's First Code wouldn't be compromised, and then Arthur could finally - _finally_ \- have that talk with Merlin and drill it into his skull that using magic this way was _not_ acceptable.

* * *

Despite Arthur's intentions, Lancelot pulled a sly trick at the end of their fight - which Arthur had all but won - and ultimately had the prince at his mercy. _Damn it!_

It was a stroke of genius, the prince had to admit. Lancelot had pretended to be down, and at the last moment, disarmed and at the prince's mercy, the man had turned everything on its head, attacked much more quickly than Arthur would have thought possible, and then it was Arthur on the ground, staring down at the point of his own sword, wielded by the man he had thought he had defeated.

Even as the guards started to drag the man away for attacking his prince in such a way, Arthur couldn't deny the man's talent anymore. It had been a dirty trick, not something one would expect in an honorable battle - but Arthur had learned early on in his career as a knight that battles against opposing forces were rarely honorable.

As much as it pained him to admit it, Arthur had to concede that Merlin had been right. Lancelot could fight. And now that his father was drawing up plans to bring the fight to the griffin, a fight that Gaius said couldn't be won without magic and for which his Ifather refused to consider said magic, Arthur needed all the brave, strong fighters he could get.

Arthur couldn't deny it any longer. He needed Lancelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to RaissaPL for reviewing the last chapter! And thank you so much to everyone who has read, liked, and given kudos the story! So sorry I was a day late in getting this to you all - I'm going to do better about consistently posting on A03!
> 
> I did want to clear up/reiterate something about this story based on some reviews I got for the last chapter about the episode rewrites: I'm still planning on "rewriting" every episode (that's the point of this story, after all, to see how the show itself would change), but rewriting is a relative term. I'm going to take the villains, main ideas, etc. from the episodes and rework them, often into entirely new stories. The ultimate goal is to write a new story but ground it in the episodes themselves. (On that note, I really am enjoying "fixing" the magical creatures. Doing research on griffins was a blast!)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks again so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Please let me know what you think - the reveal of the magic reveal (?) comes next chapter, so things are about to get juicy! ;) I'll be catching up on updating to where I've written this week!
> 
> ~Emachinescat ^..^


	6. Lancelot, Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this out!

It felt a bit silly, Morgana thought as she looked around at the festivities, to celebrate with such a feast when the threat of the griffin loomed over Camelot. Her dreams had left her restless for days, with Arthur killed night after night by the fearsome beast. That looming feeling of dread, the constant companion of her nightmares, persisted even now.

However, she was pleased that Merlin's friend had been knighted. Based on her conversation with the sorcerer earlier in the week, she had a feeling that Lancelot wasn't who he said he was, but, she thought as she sipped her wine, that didn't mean he deserved the knighthood any less.

She noticed Gwen smiling in Merlin's direction, her face alight in an expression Morgana recognized immediately. "You should go talk to him," she nudged, grinning as Gwen's face turned bright red. Even as she urged her servant to approach Merlin, who stood across the room with Lancelot, a strange hollowness attached itself to her heart. She brushed it off - of course she was thrilled that the two servants, her friends, seemed to be made for each other.

Arthur sauntered up to her then, glancing back over his shoulder in the direction she had been staring - toward Merlin, Lancelot, and Gwen. She hoped he didn't notice that her eyes had been pointed directly at the servant. Arthur seemed distracted, eyes clouded over with some cocktail of emotions she couldn't quite pinpoint.

"Morgana, standing here all alone? No one volunteered to be your escort?"

Haughtily, Morgana sniffed, "Unlike you, Arthur, I'm emotionally independent enough not to need someone to be with me every day. Speaking of which, where's your date? Over there, with Gwen and Lancelot?"

Arthur nose wrinkled in disgust. "Very funny. If he were, he'd be a terrible one. As it stands, he's been wholly lacking as a servant this whole evening, goofing off with Lancelot. Besides, that idiot is so useless, he couldn't get an escort even if he tried."

"Oh, I don't know," Morgana replied, watching how easily he interacted with Gwen, who was laughing at something he or Lancelot had said. "He seems to be doing pretty well for himself."

"With your servant?" Arthur's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I doubt it. She's far too pretty for the likes of him."

"Oh, you've noticed Gwen?" Morgana asked, batting her eyelids innocently.

"That's not what I meant!" Morgana smiled devilishly. Getting Arthur riled up was one of her favorite things.

"Well, did you come over here to gossip about the love life of our servants, Arthur, or are you here for a reason? To ask me to dance, perhaps? The answer is no, by the way. Your dancing is terrible."

"Actually," Arthur said, lowering his voice so that Morgana had to lean in slightly. "I wanted to ask you what you think about Lancelot."

"Lancelot? Why?"

"Just… humor me."

"He's the new knight; I've barely spoken to him. I don't know what insight I can offer."

"You're no help."

"Now you know how I feel in all our conversations."

"Morgana, could you be serious for even a moment!" She paused, noticing how flustered Arthur had become. "Have you ever committed to something that you know could go poorly?" he asked in a rush, changing topics suddenly.

"I… can't say I understand." For once, Morgana found herself at a loss for words. "What is this about, Arthur?"

"Nothing, never mind. I just … have you ever, I don't know, felt _torn_ between doing what is right or doing what you are supposed to?"

"If you are asking if I've ever been torn between duty and what is right, then…" She glanced for just a second at Merlin, who was laughing so hard at something Lancelot had said that his face was ruddy - or maybe it was the mead. She looked back at Arthur who was waiting expectantly for a response. "Not any time recently," she answered at last. "But that's because I learned a long time ago from watching my father that sometimes the right thing and one's duty don't always go hand in hand, and that sometimes you have to do what's right-"

"Damn the consequences," Arthur finished for her, shaking his head. "That's really becoming your mantra these days, isn't it?"

"It's _always_ been my mantra, Arthur. You should try it for yourself sometime." She smirked at Arthur's stunned silence. "Will that be all?" she asked primly.

Wordlessly, Arthur nodded. Satisfied, she left him alone to think about what she had said, completely unaware that he had already made the monumental decision to choose his friend's life over the magic ban.

If she had known, she might not have shown it, but she would have been quite proud.

* * *

Lancelot got to enjoy nearly a whole day of being a knight of Camelot before everything went wrong. Apparently, the king had already had his suspicions even before the knighting ceremony, and he had had the court genealogist, Geoffrey of Monmouth, look more deeply into the royal seal.

And so, less than twenty-four hours after achieving his dream, Lancelot was dragged before the king, charged with forging a seal of nobility, stripped of the title and cloak he had so longed for, and thrown into the dungeon. Everything had gone as badly as it could have, Arthur thought as he watched the man he had taken such a risk on being led out of the throne room, head hung low in shame.

The prince had to be careful not to overstep his bounds with his father, who was already furious about the deception. He couldn't give away his own suspicion of the truth his father had rooted out, or he could make things much worse for himself and for Lancelot. And much, _much_ worse for Merlin, if the king somehow found out how the forgery was made. Still, he had to try something.

"Father, I realize that this man lied about his bloodline, but he only did so because he was so eager to serve our great kingdom. We are riding out tonight to hunt down and face the griffin. Don't we need men like him, brave warriors who only want to fight for their kingdom, on our side?"

The king, as he had suspected, was unyielding. "Everything that this man has told you about himself is a lie, Arthur. He began your relationship with deception. How can you fight with and trust a man who has already lied to you once?" The words hit Arthur like an arrow to the chest, but it wasn't Lancelot's face he pictured when his father spoke. It was Merlin's.

* * *

Merlin was on the verge of panicking. "They're riding out any moment now, Lancelot's in the dungeon because of _me_ , and Arthur can't defeat the griffin without magic, but I was _useless_ the last time I faced it! I almost died, Gaius! How can you expect me to fulfill my destiny, to save Arthur, if I can't save myself? I don't know how to do this, Gaius." His voice cracked on his mentor's name.

Gaius squared his sloped shoulders the best that he could and put a withered hand on Merlin's shoulder. "I cannot imagine how hard this is for you, Merlin. But we will find a way. Come now, I have a spell that might work; practice it now, and surely you will have mastered in time to follow after Arthur and defeat the griffin."

* * *

Arthur felt no guilt about releasing Lancelot from the dungeons without his father's knowledge or permission. After all, the man was there partially because Arthur had agreed to test him even when knowing - or at least strongly suspecting - that his seal was forged. But he drew the line at letting Lancelot join them, no matter how much they could use a man like him.

 _At least this way, he'll live,_ Arthur thought, heart heavy as he watched Lancelot trudge toward his freedom.

And now, Arthur had to make a decision. What his father had said had really struck a chord in him. How _could_ he fight with a man, trust a man, who had built their entire relationship on a foundation of lies? No, he didn't think Merlin was evil because he possessed magic, but Merlin had been dishonest with him from the beginning. What other lies had he told?

Should he trust Merlin despite the constant presence of lies in their friendship, if that was even what it was anymore? Could he fight alongside a man who had lied to him over and over again, and not just about having magic? He could go back to pretending like he didn't know about Merlin's magic and keep an eye on the servant from a distance, or he could take the plunge, fully acknowledge the truth, and give Merlin his complete trust.

It didn't take him long to make his decision. Well, damn. He had been planning on having a lot more fun with this reveal, making things about as hard on Merlin for a bit as Merlin had made them for him. But now he had delayed so long that there was no time for games.

Purpose in every step, Arthur pelted in the direction of Gaius's chambers with the knowledge that everything was about to change.

* * *

Merlin didn't know how many times he'd tried to incant the spell with no luck. Every time he tried, he felt his eyes burn bright and the magic leave his body, but _nothing_. Frustrated didn't even begin to describe how he was feeling. All his life, magic had come so naturally to him. Now that he was trying to learn specific and advanced spells, however, he was actually having to work to succeed at magic. He felt like a failure and an idiot at the same time.

Arthur barged into the physician's chambers without knocking right after the gold had faded from his eyes, and his heart fluttered at the thought of what a close call that had been.

"Arthur!" Gaius exclaimed, and Merlin could tell from his tone that he, too, was equally perturbed at the prince's bursting in and relieved at the timing. "What are you doing here, sire? I was told you were supposed to be on your way to face the griffin by now."

"We are about to leave," Arthur acknowledged. Merlin noticed that there was a wild look in his eyes. A fresh wave of panic stole over him. He hadn't really had a chance to talk to Arthur since the prince had exploded on him a few days ago, and when the two had interacted, Arthur had been coarse and clipped and refused to be baited into banter of any kind. Was he here to throw Merlin into the dungeon with Lancelot, too?

"Then why are you here?" Gaius pressed. He was as impatient as Merlin for Arthur to leave so that he could continue practicing the spell.

"I'm here," Arthur took a deep breath, "for you, Merlin. I realize that as my servant, there is no obligation for you to follow me into battle, but… I need you to do just that."

* * *

It would have been comical how quickly Merlin's mouth fell open at Arthur's statement had the situation not been so dire. As it was, Arthur forced himself to continue, knowing that if he didn't say this now, he might chicken out again, and Camelot couldn't afford that. However many lies Merlin had told, he was Arthur's best bet at defeating the monster and saving his people.

"It has come to my attention that you may be helpful in light of our current circumstances."

Merlin laughed nervously while Gaius looked on in what appeared to be impatient concern. "Why, do you think the griffin will need someone to fold its laundry and polish its talons?"

"No," Arthur responded, more patiently than he thought possible given what was about to happen. "But, as Gaius has told my father many times, only magic can defeat this monster. And, you, Merlin, have magic."

Arthur had never seen the color drain so quickly out of two faces at the same time.

* * *

Merlin's _everything_ crashed around him - his life, his one-sided friendship with Arthur, his destiny, his security all plummeted like falling stars to his feet. How did Arthur know? _How could this have happened?_ More importantly, what was going to happen now? Visions of wooden pyres and chopping blocks and hangman's nooses chased each other around frantically in his mind, his breath was short and stunted, his hands shaking, nausea roiling in his stomach. He was going to _die_. Worse, Arthur, someone he considered his _friend_ , was going to kill him.

He was only broken out of his howling fear when Arthur lunged forward and grabbed Gaius by the arm. "Careful, Gaius," the prince said, guiding the wavering old man to a chair. "I'm sorry, I didn't think about how this news would affect you. Are you all right?"

Oh thank gods, at least Arthur didn't think that Gaius knew already and was treating him with civility. Gaius waved the prince off vaguely, his eyes moving anxiously between prince and servant.

"Oh, for the gods' sake, _Mer_ lin," Arthur griped. "We don't have _time_ for this! Camelot is in danger, and - oh, this is _unpleasant_ to say - you are the only hope that we have at defeating this creature."

It took longer than usual for Arthur's words to penetrate Merlin's awareness. His voice shook as he asked, "W-What are you talking about?"

"What in the hell do you _think_ I'm talking about?" Arthur's voice was approaching shrill levels. "The griffin! It can only be defeated by magic. _You_ have magic. Therefore, I need you to ride with us to defeat it."

* * *

"You… you want _my_ help?" Merlin murmured like he was in a dream. Arthur could have strangled his servant then and there.

"I won't say it again. You heard me the first time; you're just too stupid to understand what it means, apparently."

A frenetic kind of relief flashed in Merlin's eyes, but dread quickly took its place. "What happens when we return?" he asked, eyeing Arthur warily. "Are you going to turn me over to your father? Are you going to execute me?"

A plethora of emotions attacked the prince all at once - hurt, anger, bewilderment, and finally, the haunting pain of realization. It hadn't even occurred to Arthur that Merlin would think Arthur would have him killed, perhaps because that thought had never seriously entered Arthur's mind. But here he was seeing a glimpse of the hell Merlin's life must have been, terrified for his life, expecting to be sentenced to death at any moment. If the fear of being executed for magic had such deep roots that he thought Arthur would kill him, then it must be a terrible constant in his life. Arthur felt something that he had not anticipated for his servant when addressing the truth: pity.

Still, there was no time for that now. No time of _any_ of this. Every moment they delayed, the creature could be encroaching upon the citadel, or another village. An attack in the dead of night would be devastating. They _had_ to hunt it down and kill it before it could attack again.

"You're an idiot, Merlin," Arthur said. Merlin blinked owlishly. "Why would I kill you when I've got a pile of dirty laundry and dusty chambers with your name on it?"

"You-"

"You never listen," Arthur interrupted, glancing over at Gaius to make sure the man hadn't keeled over, but the physician was fully aware, watching the proceedings with wide eyes. "We don't have time for this! Do you have a… spell, or potion, or something that can stop this monster?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then come on! There's no time to waste. You don't have to ride with us, but follow closely behind. That way, you can work from the shadows to keep from getting caught."

"I-"

"And, Merlin, be careful. If you die, you'll never be able to explain to me why you decided to practice magic in Camelot in the first place, and I've been anticipating that conversation for a long while."

Without giving Merlin a chance to answer, Arthur left the room, a stunned Gaius and Merlin in his wake.

* * *

Gaius was the first to speak. "First Morgana, and now Arthur. It really is a wonder that your head is still attached to your shoulders." His trembling hands belied his curt words.

Merlin, for his part, was in a state of shock. His understanding of the world around him, his life in Camelot, had just flipped upside down. He had experienced both paralyzing terror and anesthetizing relief in less than five minutes' time, and he still couldn't believe what had happened. Arthur knew about his magic… and, if not _accepted_ it, at the very least tolerated it. When Merlin had dreamed of this day, it had been far, far in the future. He couldn't process this; it was too much-

"Merlin." Gaius's voice was sharp but kind. "I understand that this is a lot to take in. It is for me as well. But did you hear what he said? He _needs_ you. Camelot needs you." A small smile appeared. "Your destiny has called on you directly, Merlin. Don't let him down."

Doubt clamped its festering fingers around any building hope. "But I haven't mastered the spell, Gaius. What if I fail?"

"You won't, Merlin," Gaius assured him. "But it will all be for naught if you keep standing around here gaping like a fish. Go to Arthur, help him defeat the griffin, and then you can come home and deal with all that has happened."

Reminded of his purpose, of his destiny, and of how he simply could not fail - the stakes were too great - Merlin nodded at Gaius and raced out of the room, toward the stables.

* * *

When he got there, Lancelot was mounting a horse, a javelin in one hand.

"Lancelot!" Merlin cheered. "How did you escape?"

"I didn't. Prince Arthur released me. He is full of surprises."

Merlin chuckled rather madly. "That he is. Where are you going?"

"I'm taking the horse Arthur prepared for me, and I'm going after him and the knights. I cannot stand by and let them die without at least trying to help, no matter what Arthur ordered me to do. I swore long ago that I would protect those who need it, and I cannot stop now."

"Can I hitch a ride, then?" Merlin asked, knowing it would waste precious time for him to prepare his own horse. "I'm heading that way, too."

* * *

When they arrived at the scene of the battle, Merlin feared that they were too late. The griffin circled slowly above, its feathers and talons glinting in the dappled moonlight filtering through the trees. It would have been beautiful if it weren't for the knights strewn about on the forest floor.

"Arthur!" Merlin fairly leaped from the horse's back and found the prince stretched beneath a tree, out cold, but thankfully alive. He had a nasty cut on the back of his head and scratch marks in his new chest plate, but his breathing was steady and his heart beat at a regular pace. He would be okay.

A horrible screech shattered the chilled silence, and Merlin spun around to see that the griffin had landed, pawing its front claws on the ground and creating great divots in the earth with each talon. Lancelot had put distance between himself in the beast, javelin held aloft, knowing, Merlin thought, that the weapon would not be enough to kill the griffin. He was sacrificing his life in the vain attempt to save the knights, and Merlin, and all of Camelot.

Resolve pooled in Merlin's bloodstream and trickled into his chest. _How about I even the odds a bit?_

The first time he whispered the incantation, nothing happened but the sound of pounding hoofbeats and talons against the forest floor. The second time he said it louder, and the weapon remained unchanged. Merlin began to despair, knowing that if he failed here, Lancelot would die, Arthur would die, the knights would die, and Merlin himself would die, along with who knew how many others in Camelot and the surrounding villages.

Arthur somehow knew the truth about his magic but was trusting him anyway. That thought alone was enough to lift Merlin's flailing spirit to new heights. Arthur _trusted_ him. He couldn't, he wouldn't, let him down!

Merlin incanted for the third time as Lancelot and the griffin met, his voice casting the spell amidst the sounds of impending battle. The javelin glowed, met its mark, and this time, it didn't break or glance off.

Arthur woke as the griffin fell and Lancelot dismounted regally from his horse.

* * *

Merlin stood outside of the throne room with Lancelot, waiting on the king's judgment. Arthur was with Uther now, trying to convince him to reinstate Lancelot as a knight of Camelot. He and Merlin had not had a chance to talk any further than they had the night before, seeing as Arthur had been in and out of consciousness on the slow ride back to the citadel, propped up in the saddle in front of Lancelot, and had only regained his senses after a good night's sleep. The other knights who had accompanied them were still recovering, as many of them had been gravely injured by the griffin. So far, none of them had died.

"He'll have to make you a knight now, I know it!" Merlin assured his friend. "How could he not? You killed the griffin and saved the kingdom. That's about as noble as you can get!"

Lancelot, who had been surprisingly subdued throughout the aftermath of slaying the griffin, regarded Merlin with something akin to respect before answering in a slow, measured voice, "But I wasn't the one who defeated it, was I?"

 _Not again!_ Why was everyone suddenly figuring out his secret? Determined to play innocent just in case he was misreading the situation, Merlin chuckled and remarked, "I don't know who else could have killed it! Arthur and the knights were out cold, and you _know_ how useless I am in a fight."

"I saw you," Lancelot stated bluntly. "I heard you. That was the language of magic, I am sure." He said all of this in a whisper, but it sounded like shouting in Merlin's panicked mind. He couldn't take much more of this!

"I can explain-" he started, but Lancelot interrupted him.

"Your secret is safe with me," he said. "And I should thank you for what you did. You saved my life, and you saved Camelot. You're the real hero here."

Merlin flushed. "I just did what I could do to protect Arthur and Camelot," he deflected.

"Like I said: You're a hero. I cannot take credit for what you did." Merlin, so thoroughly unfamiliar with receiving praise, stood blushing and contemplating Lancelot's words for so long that he almost didn't realize that the other man was making his brazen way to the doors to the throne room and throwing them open, despite protests from the guards. Merlin scurried in after him right before the double doors closed right behind him.

Arthur was shouting at his father when they entered. "- not good enough! I want you to reinstate him as a knight of Camelot!"

Both sets of royal eyes swiveled to the newcomers. Uther glared. "How _dare_ you barge in here?"

"I'm sorry, but I have to say one thing, your highness - I am leaving Camelot."

Both Uther and Arthur stared at him in silence. Finally, Arthur stepped forward. "No, Lancelot - you've proven your worth! You deserve to be a knight, sod the First Code. Stay. Please."

Lancelot shook his head. "I must start again, far away from here, and maybe one day I will return and prove myself to be a man fully deserving of knighthood."

Arthur strode forward and clasped the man's arm. "Are you sure? Camelot needs men like you."

Lancelot's smile was more of a grimace. "I think Camelot has just the right men to protect it," he said. To Uther, he added, "Do I have your leave, your majesty?"

Something like approval sparked in the king's eyes. "Yes."

Lancelot left the throne room with head held high, and winked at Merlin as he passed.

* * *

Lancelot departed that same day. He and Gwen seemed to have hit it off rather well, because the maid came with Merlin and Arthur to see him off, and an air of sadness hovered over her as Lancelot rode out of sight.

* * *

Merlin, for his part, was running late - again - to bring Arthur his dinner. He and the prince had still not had the conversation that Arthur had spoken so eagerly of, and Merlin found that he had much more anxiety regarding this talk than he had ever had with Morgana's. Still, it had to happen eventually, and despite the nightmares that had plagued him all night, and the doubts that had manifested with each new one, his head was still on his shoulders, and Arthur had shoved him in that fond-but-still-kind-of-painful way of his on the way out of the throne room earlier, so maybe everything would really be okay.

Then again…

Arthur's face seemed carved in stone as Merlin entered, his jaw working furiously. "S-sire?" Merlin stammered, placing the tray of meats and cheeses down on the table with shaking hands. "Did I do something wrong?"

"I can't believe you even had to _ask_ , Merlin!" Arthur hissed. A chill lanced down Merlin's spine. Then the prince continued, "You're _late! Again!_ I swear, Merlin, I believe you must have been late to your own _birth_!"

Merlin's pulse stuttered to a safer level. "I - what?"

"It's getting ridiculous, _Mer_ lin. If this doesn't stop, I'm going to have to dock your pay."

He looked at Merlin expectantly, and Merlin realized just what he was waiting for. "Well, that might mean something if you paid me much of anything to begin with."

Arthur's stern demeanor cracked and he stood, shaking his head in exasperation. " _But_ , I suppose that since you _did_ help me save Camelot yesterday, I can let it slide one last time."

Merlin found himself falling easily back into their normal pattern, the light-hearted bickering reassuring him more than promises or vows ever could. " _Helped_ you? As I recall it, you were in a heap under a tree when _I_ saved Camelot. What exactly did you do?"

"I'm the crown prince, _Mer_ lin," Arthur shot back. "And you are my servant. I automatically get credit for anything you do."

Merlin thought about this for a long moment. "So does that mean that if I mess up, you mess up too?"

"No, that just means you're an idiot. An idiot," he pressed before Merlin could retort, "who uses magic, it would seem." Merlin grew still at his words, but panic didn't fill him as it had before. It would be okay, he knew that now.

"I suppose you want to know the truth."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "No, I want you to keep lying to me because I enjoy the intrigue of it all," he said dryly. Merlin offered a wan smile. Arthur motioned at the chairs around the table, and Merlin gingerly took his seat while Arthur plopped down across from him.

"Now," he said, "You are going to tell me _everything._ Who taught you magic, why you use it, how long you have used it, and why you only seem to use it to help people or to cheat on your chores when sorcerers are supposed to all be evil. And neither of us are leaving this table until I know _everything_. Am I clear?"

"What if another magical creature attacks the citadel before I'm done? Can we leave then?"

"Merlin." It was hard to tell if Arthur was more impatient, frustrated, or amused.

"Okay, okay. But it's kind of a long story. Maybe you need to take a bathroom break first, you know, since you can't leave this table until I've finished talking"

" _Merlin!_ "

Things would never be the same between them, Merlin knew, as he began to speak, but maybe that was okay.

Maybe they would be even better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, bookmarked, and given kudos to this story! Even though I have been swamped with work and haven't had time to respond to everyone individually, I am so grateful for all the support! :) Also, I apologize for the late update; this weekend was rather hectic, and I just now got the chance to post.
> 
> So now the magical cat is out of the bag. The next chapter will be a sort of interim between "episodes" simply titled "Conversations." 
> 
> One final thing regarding the last lines of this chapter - they came to me in a sudden burst of inspiration, and I really love them, but there's a part of me (the really paranoid part of me) that's dealing with a sense of deja-vu, like I've read something similar before. Just know, if there is another story out there with lines like these, I didn't copy them. I might just be crazy or overly paranoid about this, but I wanted to make sure I put that out there, just in case I'm not wrong and someone does have a similar ending line in a story. :)
> 
> That's it for Lancelot. Thanks again so much to everyone who is reading and responding to this story - you all are so amazing! :)
> 
> ~Emachinescat ^..^


	7. Conversations

True to his word, Arthur made Merlin sit across from him at the prince's table until Merlin had answered all of his questions - and Arthur had a lot of questions.

First, he looked Merlin square in the eye and said, "I don't know why, but for some reason, I trust you. It probably has something to with the number of times that you have saved my life," he admitted after a short pause. At Merlin's self-conscious grin, he added, "Oh, don't look so pleased with yourself. As my servant, risking your life to save mine is just your duty. However," he regarded Merlin critically, as if gauging his reaction, "I will say that I have never had a sorcerer try to save my life before. In my recent experience, most sorcerers want to _kill_ me, not keep me alive."

Merlin shrugged. "I'm … one of a kind."

Arthur snorted. "That, I believe." A beat, then, "But why?"

"Why am I one of a kind?" Merlin appeared genuinely confused. "Didn't you just say-?"

" _Why do you keep trying to save my life instead of take it?_ " Magic or not, dealing with Merlin was exhausting. Did increased magic mean decreased brain function? If so, Merlin would have to be the most powerful sorcerer Arthur had ever heard of.

"Oh, that." Again, Merlin shrugged. "I don't know, it's just… right?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow in what he hoped was a passable impersonation of Gaius.

"Do I need a reason to want to save you?" Merlin asked, throwing his hands in the air.

"Is there something wrong with you?" Arthur asked suddenly.

"Excuse me?" Merlin appeared to be thoroughly taken aback by the seemingly unconnected question.

"I mean, besides the usual. After all, all my life I have heard that magic is evil, and so are those that practice it. And true to what I have seen, every sorcerer I have encountered has tried to do me in, most recently the mysterious woman at the Caves of Balor. If this is true, then something _must_ be wrong with you. Why would you save the son of a man who would hang you without a second thought if he knew what you were?" Merlin shifted uncomfortably. "Are you using me?" Arthur almost felt bad for asking the question, knowing the truth but needing to ask anyway, just in case. Just to be thorough.

Hurt bloomed in Merlin's eyes. "What on earth would I be using you for?" he demanded. "What possible benefit could I gain from following you around, cleaning up after you all day?"

"Perhaps to gain my trust. To get close to me so that you can have access to my father." It sounded ridiculous even as Arthur said it.

Merlin laughed, a hint of bitterness mixed with amusement. "Trust me, Arthur, if I were an evil sorcerer set on revenge against your father, I'm sure there would be better ways to get close to him than letting his pompous prat of a son boss me around."

Arthur graciously let the insult slide. "Then why do you do it? Why do you save me? Wouldn't killing my father as well as me pave the way to your freedom?"

Merlin shook his head, disturbed. "Why would I do that? That would just sow more fear and hatred. And why would I want to gain freedom by violence? Is that really freedom at all?"

Merlin's words seemed to touch Arthur's soul. He cocked his head, realizing that he had only begun to discover all the many facets of Merlin. Who knew he could be so… wise?

"Where did you get that from?" Arthur asked, half-teasing. "You can't have come up with it on your own. It's far too wise."

Merlin's cheeks flushed at the veiled half-praise and then supplied, "A book."

"And what else did this 'book' tell you? What purpose could there be in saving me, then, instead of standing by passively and letting the old woman kill me at that banquet? Surely your conscience would be clear then."

"No, I told you already. I did it because it was right. You didn't deserve to die any more than her son did just for having magic."

"Why continue on as a servant then? Let me 'boss you around' as you put it? If you have magic, why would you not use it for something other than shortcuts on chores and to falsify legal documents?"

Merlin's face blanched. "You know about that?"

Arthur bared his teeth in a fierce grin. "I do now." His eyes pierced Merlin's with an intense glare. "Now, answer my question. Why be a servant? Why save my life?"

"I…" Merlin hesitated, and Arthur could tell he was trying to decide what to say, or how much to say. Was Merlin hiding something else from him? A moment later, however, Merlin finally responded, "I believe that someday, a long, _long_ time in the future, that you are going to be a great king. I want to see the Camelot that you build someday, and I want to help you build it, even if it is from your shadow as a servant."

"And what if I were to decide to continue the ban on magic when I became king?" Arthur asked, watching the embers of pain spark in Merlin's eyes before dying just as quickly. "Would you still follow me, still help me build this Camelot you speak of? Or is a Camelot with magic legalized your only goal in all of this?" He found himself to actually be a bit anxious about the answer.

Merlin thought for a long time before he responded, but when he did, his voice did not waver with indecision. If anything, he sounded more confident than he had before. "Even if you chose to keep magic outlawed, I would still stand by you. Gods know why, but I believe in you and the world you can create. It would be kind of hard to protect you and help you build that world if my very existence is illegal, though, wouldn't it?"

This was a perfect segway into Arthur's next series of questions. Blinking rapidly to ease the completely uncalled for stinging behind his eyes at Merlin's words, he questioned, "Well, can't you just stop using magic?"

* * *

Arthur's question sank like a stone, solidifying into a heavy mass in Merlin's stomach. It left an acrid taste in his mouth and he had to remind himself that Arthur didn't know what he was really asking, had no way of knowing that Merlin _was_ in many ways magic. How could he know that Merlin hadn't chosen to use magic, but magic itself had chosen to manifest in him? How could he know that he was asking, "Well, can't you just stop breathing?"

He, to his credit, seemed to recognize that what he had said had struck a very sour note in his servant, and he almost looked offended as he followed up with another question, "Is magic that important to you, that you can't give it up, even for this dream you say you believe in?"

Merlin shook his head. "It's not that. It's just… I didn't _choose_ to do magic, Arthur."

"What do you mean? Of course you did."

"No, I didn't. Magic chose me."

Arthur let out a little nervous laugh. "What does that mean? You're not making any sense!"

And so Merlin explained - he told Arthur of how on the day he was born, his mother had watched with fear and amazement as her infant son had levitated in her arms, tiny hands reaching for the simple necklace around she wore. How his entire life, magic had come to him as naturally - more naturally - than walking, or talking. How his mother had warned him from the time he could understand her to hide his gifts, to pretend to be normal, because his very existence could get them both killed. How he had one friend back home who had found out and had become Merlin's confidant, had thought his magic was something special instead of something to fear, and had slowly started showing Merlin that maybe his very existence wasn't wrong after all. He spoke of living in constant fear for his life, the words chasing one another out of his mouth almost faster than he could articulate them, years of built-up fear and emotions surging forth to a person that Merlin never would have dreamed having this kind of conversation with.

It was terrifying and exhilarating, agonizing and exhausting, and it felt like his very soul poured into his words. It felt … good.

When he stuttered to a stop, he glanced back up from where he had been fixated on a spot on the table and saw a stunned, pained expression on Arthur's face. Terror nipped at his heart. Had he said too much? Was Arthur overwhelmed, considering changing his mind? Did he think that Merlin was completely mad?

Tentatively, Merlin spoke up, "...Arthur?"

Arthur answered in just as hesitant a tone: "If that's true, then it means that by the laws of Camelot, just your existence is evil. My father's reign would have you killed just for being born." An aura of guilt lingered about his words.

"It's true," Merlin acknowledged. "Though as far as Gaius knows, I'm the only person to ever have been born with magic, and to be able to use it naturally, without studying. He says…" Merlin heaved a burdened sigh in the weight of all that loomed before him. "He says I have a great destiny. That I am something unknown, something new." He shook his head, overwhelmed. "I don't know about that, but what I do know is that asking me to stop using magic is like asking me to stop eating, or stop breathing. Magic is a part of me, I can't control it. If you asked me to go without magic, I would try… but it might kill me."

Arthur's face was cupped in his hands by the time Merlin finished his speech. Slowly, he lowered his arms and looked over at Merlin with confusion and sadness in his gaze. "Then why come to Camelot? Why stay here? Why protect me?"

"Because that destiny Gaius spoke of, I believe that it is you." Merlin didn't know why he refrained from mentioning the dragon to Arthur, but he couldn't bring himself to admit his fairly regular rendezvous with the great lizard imprisoned beneath the castle, not yet.

"Me?" Arthur now looked completely out of his depth, more vulnerable than Merlin had ever seen him, and the sorcerer hated it.

"Protecting you, serving you. Helping you build the Camelot I spoke of earlier." He grinned. "Keeping you from being too much of a prat."

Arthur chuffed a bit manically. "I'm still your prince, Merlin," he reminded.

"And I'm still your servant, magic or no," Merlin rebounded, steadily keeping eye contact with his prince.

Clearing his throat and squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment, Arthur continued his questioning, "And is this the only reason you stay in Camelot, that you protect me?"

Merlin ducked his head, an excruciating awkwardness trickling down his spine like cold water. Was Arthur really going to make him say it? And to what end? So the prince could mock him for having emotions like a normal person did?

Arthur's stare was unrelenting, so Merlin huffed and muttered, "For some weird reason, you're not all that terrible to be around all the time. Sometimes, you feel almost like…" He trailed off, but didn't continue. After all, as Arthur continuously reminded him, he was Merlin's prince, his master. Besides, for all the grief Merlin gave Arthur about his aversion to emotions, Merlin wasn't too adept at navigating or expressing them himself. How could he say those last two words to Arthur, knowing that at best, Arthur would tease him for them, at worst get angry.

Thankfully, Arthur didn't force Merlin to finish his sentence, but clapped his hands together, stood up, his chair grumbling against the floor as it was scooted back, and said, "I need to get ready to train the knights now."

Surprised, Merlin stood as well, eyeing Arthur warily. "I thought we were staying here until we talked through everything?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I thought we had established that you're a self-sacrificing idiot who has no idea what self-preservation is, and that you are definitely not smart enough to be evil. Is there something else you failed to tell me about?"

Merlin hesitated, a great golden dragon flapping in his mind's eye, but he shook his head, again unsure of why he kept Kilgharrah to himself but clinging on to his last little secret like it was a lifeline. "No," he said. "That's all."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Arthur snapped. "Go fetch my armor and bring it to the training grounds. We'll be training with the mace and the battle axe today."

Merlin's heart beat a little faster. "Does this mean that you're letting me stay here, in Camelot?"

Arthur shot his servant a perplexed look. "...Yes?"

"And you're not sacking me?"

"For heaven's sake, Merlin, _why_ would I sack someone who has the ability to save my life? I'd be as idiotic as you are if I fired you and then went and got myself killed by an evil sorcerer the next day. No, I reckon you are more useful than you look. Maybe what you lack in general competence as a servant, you can make up for in watching my back for magical threats."

"With magic?" Merlin entreated, heart flip-flopping in ecstatic disbelief.

"Well, considering you're more useless than a toddler when it comes to traditional weapons and defending yourself, I would hope you would use magic to protect me. Otherwise, I'd be dead by morning."

Merlin wondered if Arthur knew just how monumental his words were, the balm they offered to Merlin's hatred-scarred soul. Even though Arthur hadn't said whether he planned on undoing his father's law against magic someday, even if a bumpy road still lay ahead, Merlin truly had a place in Camelot. And that place was by Arthur's side, protecting him, just as the Great Dragon had said. Arthur's reaction to learning his magic proved just that.

It was all Merlin could do not to cry.

Then Arthur ruined it by adding, "Oh, and make sure to grab some armor for yourself as well."

Merlin balked. "Why?" he nearly whined.

"You and I will be training some after I finish with the knights."

"But why?" Merlin was definitely whining now and didn't care in the slightest. "I thought now that you know I can protect myself and you with magic, you would stop trying to kill me with pointless training!"

"It's not pointless, _Mer_ lin. And magic or not, you need to know how to defend yourself by traditional means as well. Magic may not always be an option. Besides," he snickered, "watching you flail about with a sword is one of the highlights of my day."

* * *

It took about a month, but Merlin and Arthur gradually began to find a new normal. Neither was used to the idea of Merlin's magic being out in the open between them, and for a bit, things were a bit tense and sometimes awkward. Arthur had noticed that Merlin generally avoided doing magic in front of him, even when they were alone in his chambers. The prince was both relieved and disappointed about this. Part of him wanted to see more magic, to be able to understand what Merlin could do and what magic really was, but another part of him still had doubts about Merlin practicing it in front of him. Although he no longer ascribed to his father's ideas of magic as unequivocally evil, it was still something unknown, something that he didn't understand, and that, whether he wanted to admit it or not, was scary.

Then, after a couple of weeks of relative avoidance of the subject after their big talk, Arthur, tired of skirting the subject and honestly feeling a bit hurt that Merlin was still avoiding the topic of magic unless Arthur directly mentioned it, "accidentally" knocked a bucket of dirty mop water onto the floor that Merlin had just spent the past hour scrubbing by hand. As Arthur had hoped, Merlin, with the knowledge that his secret was safe, reacted instinctively. His magic caught the water before it could hit the floor and plopped itself neatly back into the bucket that righted itself with a _clunk._

"You did that on purpose!" Merlin accused.

Arthur didn't deny it. "Well, I was beginning to think that I had imagined the whole you having magic thing. You never use it around me. Did my words mean nothing to you?"

Merlin blushed. "It's just weird. I've been working so hard to keep this hidden from you for so long that it comes naturally. Plus, it's hard to know how you'll react. You did tell me that if you caught me using magic on my chores that you'd throw me in the stocks, remember?"

"How was I to know you'd actually listen?" For the first time since Arthur had found out about Merlin's magic, he actually asked the question that he had been steadfastly avoiding for weeks, almost afraid of the answer. "Merlin, I was wondering… Exactly how powerful _are_ you?"

Merlin looked at Arthur in surprise. "I'm actually surprised you haven't asked me that yet. I thought that you would grill me about it the first time we talked about my magic."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "I wanted to, but the conversation got away from us, I suppose." Translation: The conversation had gotten too sappy, and Arthur had had to bow out before his levels of discomfort and awkwardness reached their peak. "And then, you didn't seem too keen on offering anything up about your magic, or even mentioning it at all. I told you I trusted you, and then it was like it counted for nothing."

"It did," Merlin reassured him, taking a step forward in his earnestness. "It's just difficult to know _how_ to talk about this with you. I mean, you're the son of Uther Pendragon, the king who hates magic above anything else. You're already in a strange position, being stuck between your father and me." He shrugged. "I thought you'd be happier if things went back to normal, with the added bonus of knowing you have a sorcerer watching your back."

Arthur cracked a thin smile at this. "I guess I expected you to want to share your magic with me after, well, everything." Damn, it was getting too emotional once more. Arthur squared his shoulders and glared at Merlin. "You need to work on your communication skills, _Mer_ lin, you're terrible at it!"

Indignant, Merlin retorted, "You're worse at communicating than I am!"

"Then why haven't you answered my question yet, if you're so good at communicating?" Arthur's smug retort quieted Merlin for the breadth of a second.

"Wait, what was the question?"

"You may be terrible at communicating, but you are _excellent_ at proving me right! How powerful are you?"

Merlin grew serious once more. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and said, "I'm not really sure. I guess I must be pretty powerful since I never had to study to do magic, but I'm still untrained. Gaius seems to think I'm something special, but…" He broke off, eyes distant. "I don't even know where this power _came_ from. How am I supposed to know what I'm capable of if I don't even know that?"

Arthur considered this. "And your mother doesn't have magic?"

Merlin shook his head. "No, and she's never even tried to use it."

"What about your father?" Distantly, Arthur couldn't believe it had taken him this long to ask Merlin about his family. The boy had been his servant for how many months now?

A touch of melancholy tinged Merlin's next words. "I… don't know. I never met him."

Arthur thought of his own mother who had died giving birth to him and a pang of sympathy shot through him. "Did he… die?"

Again, Merlin shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think he left, but Mother never talked about him." As an afterthought, he added, "They never married."

"Do you know if he had magic?"

Merlin sent his master an exasperated look. "I just said my mother never spoke of him. I have no idea."

Arthur raised both hands in defense. "Just double checking." He paused. "Do you think he had magic, like you?"

Merlin shrugged a third time. "I've imagined all my life different scenarios. Maybe he was a powerful sorcerer who had a higher calling and left for noble purposes - that was my favorite. But eventually I had to come to the realization that if he isn't dead, then he's a coward who abandoned his family. His having magic wouldn't change that."

Arthur winced in solidarity at the heavy emotions his servant had to be feeling. He hesitated, then briefly put a hand on a scrawny shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said simply, and Merlin grinned.

"It's fine. But I guess I couldn't answer your question. Sorry."

Arthur waved him off. "Can you show me, at least?"

"Show you what?" Merlin side-eyed the prince warily.

"Your magic, idiot."

Merlin stared and smacked his lips like his entire mouth had gone dry in an instant. "You… You're _asking_ me to do magic? Right now?"

Arthur's eyes rolled to the ceiling. "What, are you self-conscious?"

Merlin shook his head, a wild chuckle escaping. "I just never thought that you of all people would…" He took a deep breath. "What do you want to see?"

"Well, nothing too flashy," Arthur advised. "And close the curtains and lock the doors. With the kind of luck you have, someone would come to the door or be staring up from the courtyard at the exact moment you did it, and then I would have to waste time and energy bailing you out of trouble."

In the end, Merlin conjured a butterfly. He expected Arthur to tease him for being girly, but he had just learned this spell and thought the glimmering, innocent spell was the perfect example of how magic could create beauty and peace instead of just death and destruction. To his surprise, Arthur reached out tentatively toward the fluttering insect, but pulled his hand back at the last moment, as if afraid he would make it disappear. He watched it with amazed blue eyes until it came to rest on Merlin's palm and dispersed into glittering fractals, out of existence.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Did you just… create life?"

Merlin frowned. He hadn't thought of it like that before. "I don't think so," he said at last. "It wasn't really alive."

"But it was _there_ ," Arthur argued, still staring at the spot it had disappeared. "It wasn't an illusion?"

"No, it wasn't an illusion," Merlin quickly agreed, aghast at the thought of the prince thinking him to be some charlatan. "It was just… magic."

Appearing more unsure of himself than Merlin had ever seen him, Arthur ventured, "Your magic?"

Merlin smiled. "Just an extension of it."

Arthur looked almost impressed, remembered himself, then sniffed haughtily. "Well, this just proves it," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You really _are_ a girl. Do you go out into the woods and frolic in fields of magical butterflies?"

And there was the Arthur that Merlin was familiar with. All jabs and criticism, but Merlin had seen the light in his master's eyes for a few precious seconds. He saw for a short time not mere curiosity about magic, not a tentative acceptance, but an understanding of what magic was at its core - powerful and dangerous in the wrong hands, sure, but also beautiful, natural - a part of life.

It was more than Merlin had ever dreamed.

In the days following, they fell into a sort of rhythm where Merlin gradually began to use magic in front of Arthur when it was safe, though Arthur _hated_ it when Merlin tried to use magic to do his chores - "That's _cheating_ , _Mer_ lin!" - and threatened more than once to throw him in the stocks for it. But Merlin didn't mind doing his chores mostly without magic, as he'd grown used to doing. Honestly, if he had to never use magic to clean ever again, it would be worth it having Arthur know his secret and be on his side.

Funnily enough, Merlin never once thought to tell Arthur that Morgana knew about his magic too, or Morgana about Arthur - keeping secrets came so naturally to him. So he said nothing on the matter - that is, until Morgana suddenly fell gravely ill and it looked like only magic would be able to save her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, given kudos to, and/or bookmarked this story! Your support is what keeps me writing!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed these conversations. I had so much fun writing them. :) As you can tell, next time we will be delving into "A Remedy to Cure All Ills", but we are rapidly approaching a point where things will be diverging even more significantly than they already are, and I'm really psyched about that!
> 
> I'd love to know what you thought about this chapter! Next one will be out soon!
> 
> ~Emachinescat ^..^


	8. A Remedy to Cure All Ills, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to go ahead and catch up on my posting for this fic on here, since I keep forgetting to do timely updates. I'll be uploading chapters 9 and 10 shortly!

Arthur sat at the table in his chambers, watching with irritation as Merlin wore a rut in his floor, pacing back and forth endlessly - this had been going on for the last ten minutes.

Finally, Arthur slammed his palms down on the table, causing Merlin to jump and cease his incessant pacing. "Enough!" the prince growled.

Merlin blinked, wide-eyed in confusion, at Arthur's sudden outburst. "What?"

"Stop _pacing_ ," Arthur clarified, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Merlin plopped down across from Arthur.

Everything had been going well between them since that day, weeks ago, when Merlin had shown Arthur a glimpse of his magic. They'd fallen back into their usual bickering and name-calling, but there was more respect in Arthur's eyes for his servant than there had been before. Arthur didn't treat Merlin like a friend in the way Morgana did, but Merlin was actually relieved about that. He didn't think he could handle Arthur discovering his magic and then becoming nice all in one fortnight. He might just keel over from shock.

Merlin had been busy with Arthur, as the prince had been more demanding than ever when it came to Merlin training for the battlefield. It was like now that he knew his servant was capable of strength in one way, there was no excuse for Merin not to be strong physically, either. It was exhausting and painful, and Merlin hated it, and maybe that's why Arthur seemed to enjoy it so much. Because of these training sessions and the general demand of all of his duties now that he was fully healed from being poisoned, Merlin rarely had time to sit down and talk with Morgana anymore. The lady herself had been busy with matters of the court. Still, she always flashed him a smile and paused to talk to him when they passed in the corridor.

Perhaps this was why Merlin felt so guilty when he found out that she had fallen asleep one night and not woken again the next morning, suspended in a death-like sleep that there was apparently no cure for, according to Gaius. If he had only taken the time to really stop and talk to her, made time for their once-usual evening chats, then maybe he would have noticed something different about her, something to indicate that she was growing ill. Gaius said that was poppycock, that the king and Arthur spent much more time around her and that they knew her better, but Merlin wasn't convinced. In his mind, he should have been able to prevent the woman who had fast become one of his dearest friends from succumbing to this inflammation of the brain.

Gaius had also said that Merlin's magic wouldn't be able to cure it. He'd only been able to heal Gwen's father so easily because it was a sickness born of magic. "It's a natural illness, and it must be treated by natural means," he had insisted, not letting Merlin into the sickroom. "It's not going to do any good for you to see her this way," the old man had said gently. "And you have your duties to attend to. I will let you know if she worsens."

Just that evening, that news had come - Morgana was slipping further away. Arthur had ended training early, retiring to his chambers to brood and sulk, and Merlin had followed him despite Arthur's insisting he wanted to be alone. Arthur hadn't pressed the matter, so here they now were, an electric charge of fear crackling in the air between them.

Merlin, needing something to do with his body now that he wasn't pacing, started tapping his fingers distractedly on the table. Arthur heaved an irritated sigh and almost jumped to his feet, taking up Merlin's previous effort to pace a hole in the stone floor.

Merlin watched him moodily for a few moments before commenting dryly, "I see why you told me to stop. It's _really_ annoying."

Arthur ignored him, continuing to pace until he was getting on his own nerves, then he flopped down into a chair and asked the question that had been burning on his mind all day, "Are you _sure_ there's nothing you can do for Morgana?"

Merlin bit his lip. "Gaius says that magic won't easily cure a natural disease, especially since I'm so untrained in healing magic."

"Do you think he's right?" A month ago, Arthur wouldn't even have considered asking for Merlin's opinion, but things had changed enough that he had begun to see the value in his servant's opinions, especially regarding magic. Of course, the prince always made sure that he had the final say.

Merlin stopped tapping his fingers on the table and studied them like they might have the answer that evaded him. He eventually hedged, "I think he knows a lot about healing and magic. But it feels so wrong not to try. After all Morgana has done for me, I -"

He broke off suddenly, face going red. He clamped his hands together on top of the table so tightly that his knuckles went white.

Arthur glared at his servant suspiciously. "And just _what_ has Morgana done for you, Merlin?" Merlin hesitated, but Arthur drilled him with a fierce look that guaranteed the servant wasn't getting out of this one. Arthur had avoided the subject of the strange interactions he'd noticed between his father's ward and the servant in light of everything that had happened recently, especially after noticing that the two hadn't been palling around so much as of late. This turn of conversation was almost a reprieve from the gnawing worry that had been consuming him since Morgana fell ill.

When Merlin finally spoke, his voice was apologetic. "With you finding out, and then everything else going on with Lancelot, and all the training, I guess I forgot to mention … Morgana knows about me, too."

Irritation welled up inside the prince. "She knows about your magic, too?"

Merlin nodded.

Arthur let out an angry laugh, rose to his feet again, and resumed pacing. "You are _really_ bad at keeping your magic a secret, Merlin," he chided. "Did she find out before or after me? Or did you just blurt it out?"

Merlin looked up from his hands at the derision in Arthur's voice but answered honestly, "If you found out in the caves with the Avanc as you said, then about the same time as you. She just didn't take a million years to talk to me about it like you." The attempt at humor fell flat, and he dropped his gaze back down to the table.

Arthur couldn't help being petty. He sneered, "Is there anyone else you've casually outed yourself to, Merlin?"

He honestly wasn't expecting Merlin to answer affirmatively - after all, how careless could he actually be? - but Merlin glanced up sheepishly and muttered, "Lancelot… might have seen me using magic to help him kill the griffin."

Arthur stopped pacing and let that sink in before turning to Merlin. "Well, that settles it. Why don't we just march right to my father's chambers and tell him about your magic, too?" He ignored the slight paling of Merlin's face and continued, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "After all, everyone in the kingdom knows at this point, so what's one more?" Merlin didn't answer. "Does Guinevere know?"

"No." Arthur could tell he wasn't lying. "Okay," the prince said, counting off on his fingers. "I know, Morgana knows, Gaius knows, and Lancelot knows. Am I missing anyone?"

"No." This time, Merlin's response was sullen.

Arthur huffed out an angry breath, ran his hands down his face, and tried his best to calm down. Now was not the time to be arguing about this, he knew that, but he felt so helpless in the face of what was happening to Morgana that it was nice to have someone to lash out at, something to distract him from his worry. But if there was even a chance that Merlin could use magic to help Morgana, then he needed to focus on that now. He could - and would - berate Merlin for his carelessness later.

"Never mind that, now," the prince ordered as the anger dwindled slowly away, replaced instantly by more anxiety. "If you think you have even the slightest chance of healing Morgana, then I want you to do it."

Merlin began tapping his fingers against the table again. Arthur found himself wondering vaguely if Merlin would fight back with magic if he tried to stab him. It was a risk he was almost willing to take; why couldn't Merlin sit still one for one damn minute?! And there was that comfortable rage rising again, assuaging his fear with its irrational ferocity. Merlin seemed to be thinking, his long fingers drumming endlessly on the table, and Arthur had had enough. " _Well?_ " he demanded. "Can you fix her, or are you as useless as you look?"

He could tell that he'd hurt Merlin's feelings by the seizing up of and then drooping of the servant's shoulders and the surprised look in his eyes. To his credit, though, Merlin didn't snap back or even call out the prince for his words. Instead, he merely answered the question the best that he could. "I honestly don't know, but I agree with you. If there's any chance at all, I need to take it. I don't know any healing spells by heart, though, and Gaius won't let me near Morgana's chambers," he fretted bitterly.

A rush of gratefulness and hope momentarily quelled the raging sea of emotions that Arthur was in real danger of drowning in. "If I order Gaius to allow us entrance, then he will have no choice. As for the spell, I'll give you the rest of the day off." Merlin gaped at the prince like he'd grown an extra arm out of the center of his chest. "Spend the time studying, searching for any spell that has any chance at all of healing Morgana. I'll come collect you late tonight and escort you to her chambers. You can try then."

Merlin nodded solemnly, rising to his feet. He hesitated, then offered Arthur a ghost of a smile. "She'll be okay," he encouraged, and if he doubted what he said, then he did a good job hiding it. Arthur almost believed it himself. Merlin added, eyes hard and determined, jaw set, "She has to be."

* * *

Arthur made his way quietly and swiftly to Gaius's chambers after the castle's curfew had begun. It was nearing midnight, and though the night watch had begun, Arthur had grown up in this castle and knew the rotations of the guards, the shortcuts, and even where the shadows pooled and the moonbeams shone on through the windows. If he were caught by a guard, he would just say he couldn't sleep because of worry for Morgana (this was, in fact, true) and that he was walking around to clear his head. No one would ever think to suspect that Arthur was going to fetch a sorcerer to heal her with magic.

Not that it mattered. He easily made it to the physician's chambers without being seen. He tapped softly on the door. Merlin must have been lingering right beside it, because it swung open immediately. Arthur caught a glimpse of an empty room before Merlin closed the door behind him.

"Where's Gaius?" he asked as the pair made their way down the staircase and in the direction of Morgana's rooms.

Merlin, who had what looked like a thick book wrapped in canvas tucked under his arm, whispered, "He's staying the night in Morgana's antechamber so that he can check on her throughout the night."

Arthur stopped walking and rounded on his servant. "And you just now decided to tell me this?" he hissed. "We have to pass through the antechamber to get to Morgana's bedroom."

"I thought you were the prince, so it doesn't matter if we go against Gaius's orders," Merlin teased, moving forward once again. Arthur quickly caught up with him.

"Be that as it may, I still want to be discreet about this. Gaius is her physician, after all, and I don't want him to get the wrong idea, to think that I don't trust him with her care."

Merlin snickered. "You mean, you're afraid of him."

"I'm afraid of no one, Merlin," Arthur countered. It was more like a healthy respect. While Merlin smugly enjoyed his little victory, the prince questioned, "Is he a heavy sleeper?"

"Sometimes. He snores even worse than you, though."

"I don't snore. And when have you been around me when I sleep, anyway?"

"You made me clean your fireplace while you took a nap just last week, remember?"

The bickering subsided as they reached the door to Morgana's chambers. Both men grew serious at once. "Don't worry," Merlin said, hefting the wrapped tome up. "I thought of the Gaius problem, too. I learned a simple sleeping spell just for the occasion. He'll sleep soundly for a few hours and then wake up none the wiser."

"I hope you practiced healing spells too," Arthur grumbled.

Arthur eased the door open. The hinges had recently been oiled; not even the slightest squeak foretold their entry. The snoring hit them the second they peeked inside. Arthur fought the urge to cover his ears and hoped that when the sleeping spell hit, the snoring would cease.

It didn't. If anything, it got louder.

"How do you ever sleep with that racket going on in the next room?" he demanded. "He sounds like a feral boar on a rampage."

Merlin chuckled humorlessly. "What's sleep?"

The door to Morgana's bedchamber lay just ahead of them, cracked slightly. Now that they were here, master and servant both realized that they might not be quite ready for this, after all. Arthur had visited Morgana often, and it rent his heart to see her lying there, so ill, so dead to the world, but he did it anyway because he cared for her.

This was different than a mere visit, though, they both knew it: They stood, side by side, simultaneously feeding and attempting to damper the spark of hope, knowing that if this failed, there was no going back. If they failed, this might be the last hope they had in a long time, and both wanted to hang on to it for a bit longer.

But Morgana didn't have longer.

Arthur steeled himself, gave Merlin a motivating slap on the back, and made his way through the door, an unusually timid Merlin padding at his heels like an overgrown puppy.

* * *

Merlin's feet stopped of their own accord the moment he set eyes on Morgana. As Gaius had been very strict about his "no unnecessary visitors and no magic, Merlin, I mean it" rules, this was the first time Merlin had seen her since she had fallen ill.

She was beautiful as always, but in her sleep she seemed fragile. Merlin had never known Morgana to be fragile. It was probably the illness that made her look so delicate and pale, her normally light skin reflecting the light filtering in through the sheer curtains like a second moon. Her hair, despite still being dark and beautiful was somehow washed out, even fanned out against the white pillow. Her eyes were closed, normally painted lids almost translucent. Nothing, not her eyes beneath their lids, not even a finger, moved. If it were not for the shallow rise and fall of her chest, Merlin would have thought her dead.

It broke something inside of him to see her like this.

He gasped at the sudden shove to the middle of his back and pitched forward, barely catching himself from face planting. Arthur's annoyed voice sounded in his ear. "Stop _staring_ , _Mer_ lin, and heal her already."

Merlin felt his face go red as Arthur loomed next to him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't being… weird… or anything. It's just… I've never…" He trailed off.

Arthur must have heard the pain in his voice, because his tune changed quite swiftly. A strong hand landed on his shoulder and stayed there a moment longer than necessary. "I forgot this is the first time you've been in here. It's hard to see her so ill."

Merlin quickly brushed the burgeoning tears from the corners of his eyes with his sleeve. He unwrapped his magic book, flipped to the page of healing spells he had been studying, and then strode forward, determination echoing with every step.

* * *

In the end, it seemed Gaius had been right. Merlin tried every healing spell he could find in the book. He had tried them standing up and sitting down. At one point, he had followed an illustration in the text and awkwardly knelt on the bed to the side of her and cupped her too-warm cheeks in his own trembling hands. He spoke the incantation, then tried it again when it didn't work.

After a full hour of trying, he was forced to admit defeat.

He could feel Arthur's eyes on his back and a heat pressed painfully behind his eyes, a raw ache festered in his throat. He'd failed. He wasn't strong enough, or powerful enough, or smart enough - he simply wasn't _enough_. He couldn't bring himself to turn around to face Arthur. He couldn't bear to see the disappointment in the prince's face. He wouldn't be surprised if Arthur hated him now. How could he trust Merlin to watch his back when Merlin couldn't even cure Morgana's sickness? Arthur would fire him, Merlin was sure of it now, and who could blame him? If Morgana died from this, it was as good as Merlin's fault.

He squeezed his eyes shut, felt the tears bubble over and streak, hot and salty, down his cheeks.

Not for the first time, a hand landed on his shoulder. This time, it didn't simply rest there, but it squeezed, not hard enough to physically hurt, but Merlin could feel every ounce of emotional turmoil in Arthur's grip. He heard the prince's boot against the floor as he stood beside the servant, his hold not loosening.

Merlin finally forced himself to turn his head, to look at Arthur, to face up to what he'd done. Guilt and rage and self-loathing vied for the top spot in his heart as his blue eyes met Arthur's. Merlin had been correct - there was disappointment there. There was grief, too, the kind of grief that one can only feel after having one's hopes dashed against a stone.

Arthur opened his mouth, and Merlin waited for the inevitable: "I never should have trusted you, Merlin … What kind of a sorcerer would let his friend die like this? … It's your fault she's dying … You're not powerful enough to save her … You failed."

When he actually spoke, his voice was raw with emotion, but his words shook Merlin to the very center of his being, so unexpected and, in his mind, undeserved as they were. "Thank you … for trying," Arthur said. They stood surrounded by the heavy silence for several long heartbeats, then Arthur let go of Merlin's shoulder, patted it twice, and trudged for the door.

Merlin stood alone in Morgana's room, heart beating so quickly he thought it might break. From the antechamber, in the midst of Gaius's cacophony of snores, he heard Arthur murmur, "Merlin."

Merlin didn't bother wiping the tear tracks off his face. He took one last look at Morgana's prone form, turned on his heel, and followed his master's summons.

Without planning it, they both walked back to Arthur's chambers as if suspended in a dream.

Neither slept for the rest of the night. Arthur alternated between tossing and turning on top of his blankets to glaring at the dying fire like it had personally offended him by its very existence. Merlin slouched, barely cognizant between the daze of emotions and the siren call of unattainable sleep, in Arthur's chair, feet curled up to the side, listlessly flipping through his magic book but seeing nothing other than _failure, failure, failure_ tattooed on every page.

Neither spoke, but they didn't have to. It was a horrible time, filled with raw emotions and fear and looming darkness, but somehow, beneath it all - perhaps because of their shared suffering - it was one of the more companionable times the two had spent together. No arguing, no bantering, just two men, two friends, one a prince and the other a servant, equals, for once, in their grief.

* * *

Dawn was slow to come, but it brought with it another surprising whisper of hope in the form of a cloaked young man with a scarred face and bright eyes. Arthur, dark circles making his eyes look bruised, met him in the courtyard after the man had cornered a guard and asked for an audience.

"My name is Edwin Muirden," the man introduced himself, and it seemed he almost reveled in his air of mystery. "And I have a remedy to cure all ills."

Arthur's first instinct was to turn the man away. After all, both Gaius and Merlin had tried treating Morgana and nothing had worked. If Gaius, a seasoned court physician with more knowledge of medicine and the human body than Arthur and his father combined, and Merlin, a fairly adept sorcerer with a tome of healing spells, couldn't revive her, then what could?

Edwin, though, had a tongue of silver, and his words hit Arthur's negative emotions just right, infusing them with just enough hope that he reconsidered.

_If Gaius and Merlin couldn't save her, then what else do we have to lose?_

Arthur finally agreed to escort the mysterious stranger to appear before his father, but maintained a healthy dose of skepticism all the same.

Later, perhaps, he'd ask Merlin what he thought of the newcomer. As useless as he was as a servant, Arthur had noticed rather reluctantly that the boy's instincts often tended, somehow, to be spot-on.

* * *

Arthur ended up being surprised at how quickly his father took Edwin up on his offer to examine Morgana. After all, didn't the idea of "a remedy to cure all ills" not sound considerably more like magic than it did science? Gaius, who was also present during Edwin's audience with the king, proclaimed confidently that there was no such thing, that science had not progressed far enough for such a remedy to exist. The king, although never one to listen to his old friend when it came to matters of state or magic, usually deferred with the old physician's knowledge of medicine. And yet now he all but leaped at the mere mention of Edwin's unlikely remedy.

A part of Arthur wondered if his father was simply ignoring or refusing to acknowledge the very real possibility that some kind of magic might be involved because of his concern for Morgana. But if that were the case, why did he so resolutely refuse to even consider magic when it was his entire _kingdom_ at stake when the griffin had attacked? It wasn't that Arthur wasn't willing to give Edwin's method a try - he wanted Morgana back, healthy and whole, just as much as his father did. But these things still nagged at his mind.

Arthur caught Merlin's eye from across the room and the servant shrugged slightly. Either he didn't know what the expression on Arthur's face was trying to ask him ( _Do you trust this man? Do you know if he has magic?_ ), or he simply didn't know the answer. Some help he was.

"If there's even a chance that your method can cure Morgana," the king was saying, approaching Edwin from his throne, "then I will let you see her at once."

Edwin bowed his head in the king's direction. An idea began to form in Arthur's mind. Casting one more glance at Merlin, who was watching Edwin with what Arthur could only assume was suspicion, he added, "And I will lend you the services of my manservant. He will help you with whatever you need."

Merlin's head now snapped over to look at Arthur, but despite the confusion in his eyes, he gave a curt nod.

"Very well," the king agreed. He placed his hand on Edwin's back and began to guide him toward the door. "I will take you to her chambers. Gaius," he ordered, and the old man obeyed the summons as quickly as he could. Merlin followed suit, but Arthur grabbed him by the arm and pulled him aside before he got to the door.

"I don't trust him," Arthur whispered. Merlin nodded, eyes wide. "I want you to keep a close eye on him. If he does anything out of the ordinary or suspicious, report back to me as soon as you can."

"Of course," Merlin agreed, face solemn.

"And Merlin," Arthur added as he released Merlin's arm. Merlin glanced back at the prince, questioning. "Don't let him know we're suspicious of him."

Another nod, and Merlin disappeared out of the throne room. Arthur stood, slightly stunned, realizing what he had just done. How stupid was he? He'd just asked Merlin, the least subtle man he knew, who had already revealed his deadly secret to what felt like half of Camelot, to spy on someone.

"Oh, this can only end badly," he murmured aloud with a hollow laugh. He hurried to catch up with the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented on the last chapter, and who left kudos or bookmarked it!
> 
> So I'm excited, because this "episode" is where we will be getting our first significant canon divergence. We are about to earnestly start embarking on a journey that will be at times familiar but often foreign from what you already know. After all, with Arthur and Morgana knowing Merlin's secret, things won't always pan out how they did in the show. Also, if you'll notice, I made this version of Arthur a bit smarter - well, and Merlin, too. Morgana always had the lion's share of the brains in the show, so I didn't have to do any adjusting to her. :)
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. It's getting me so excited for the upcoming canon divergence and also for exploring the quick-deepening bonds between our three main characters in the coming chapters. Although the show often faltered in terms of writing and logic, it gave me such wonderful characters and relationships to work with. :)
> 
> ~Emachinescat ^..^


	9. A Remedy to Cure All Ills, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to go ahead and catch up on my posting for this fic on here, since I keep forgetting to do timely updates. I'll be uploading chapter10 shortly!

Morgana looked no different than she had during the night, still fragile and pale and near death. Edwin took an almost uncomfortably long time to examine her. The stretch of time that he was with her seemed to last even longer since he allowed no one in the room. The group, consisting of Uther, Arthur, Gaius, and Merlin, congregated in tense, discomforting silence across the corridor.

As they waited, light footsteps approached them, and Merlin turned his head to see a flustered Gwen hurrying down the hallway in their direction, her gaze set so resolutely on her mistress's door that she didn't see the people waiting outside. She had reached for the door handle when Uther barked, "Girl!" Both Merlin and Gwen jumped while Arthur and Gaius watched the interaction in silence.

Gwen recovered relatively quickly from the shock and hurried to stand before the king, dipping into a deep curtsy. "My lord?" Her voice trembled slightly. Merlin knew she was remembering vividly her arrest, the king shouting at her in the throne room, demanding her to confess to being a witch, waiting in the damp, moldy dungeon for her unjust death.

The king's harsh address softened lightly at the respectful, reverent greeting. Merlin wondered with a touch of bitterness if Arthur's father even remembered who Gwen was, or if she had been shoved into a corner in the king's mind as soon as she was no longer considered a threat to Camelot. "What are you doing?" Uther asked, no real heat in his voice.

Gwen kept her dark eyes trained on her feet. "I was going to attend to my lady, your highness," she said. "I am the Lady Morgana's maid."

The king's voice housed a hollowness as his grey eyes flicked between Morgana's door and the servant's bowed head. "I know who you are," he said simply. Gwen's shoulders tensed slightly in surprise, but she did not lift her head. "You have been Morgana's handmaiden since she was a child. She's rather fond of you."

Even with the reverential tilt of her head, Merlin saw Gwen's face redden. She stammered,"That is why I was going into her room, sire. She has always been so kind to me, and I wanted to check on her."

"A new physician is looking over her now, so no one is allowed in the room," Arthur cut into the conversation. Gwen's head did snap up at that, but she looked directly at Gaius. Confusion and concern glittered, suspiciously tear-like, in her eyes. Gaius managed a heavy smile in her direction.

"A second opinion is never a bad idea, especially in a case such as this," he explained. Merlin could tell how much his mentor's entire being fought against uttering those words. Gaius trusted Edwin less than Merlin and Arthur combined, the sorcerer could tell even without having the opportunity to speak to Gaius on the matter.

Before Gwen could respond, the door opened and Edwin came out, eyes cast down demurely, something clenched in one of his fists.

Uther strode forward, nearly knocking Gaius over in his haste. "Well?" he asked.

"I have discovered what the cause of her illness is." Edwin spoke carefully, as if he were trying not to startle a skittish horse. Merlin couldn't see the king's reaction to this news from behind, but he did see the king's hands clench into fists at his sides.

"Gaius says that he already knows the illness," Uther said.

Gaius stepped forward to stand just behind his king. "Inflammation of the brain," he supplied.

Edwin looked surprised. "I am afraid I cannot concur with your diagnosis, sir. With all due respect, all of my medical knowledge points to one thing - a cerebral hemorrhage."

Gaius's tone held an unusual level of harshness as he exclaimed, "That's impossible!"

Uther held up a hand to quiet the old man. "What is that?" he asked, voice rough with concern.

Gaius answered before Edwin could. "It would mean that she has bleeding on her brain. But there was no blood, sire. It cannot be a hemorrhage."

A sympathetic wince pulled grotesquely at the scars on Edwin's face. He opened his fist and offered something to the king. Merlin and Arthur scooted forward simultaneously to get a better look. Merlin's heart stuttered with a new wave of fear when he saw the king holding in trembling hands a white handkerchief with a spot of deep crimson as its centerpiece. He heard Arthur's sharp intake of breath beside him. "This blood came from her ear, your highness," Edwin said.

Merlin watched a slew of emotions race across Gaius's wrinkled face - first shock, then confusion, then a deep suspicion. "I saw no blood," he repeated stubbornly.

Uther turned to his physician. "Then what do you call this?" he asked, shaking the handkerchief in his direction. Gaius didn't answer. The tension in the hallway thickened like a bubbling stew.

Edwin turned to Gaius and asked, "May I ask what you were treating her with?"

Gaius's lips pursed slightly, and Merlin could tell that he didn't want to reveal anything to this strange newcomer. At a pointed glance from the king, however, he said, "Rosemary."

"Then it is a very good thing that I came along!" Edwin proclaimed, rather boldly, in Merlin's opinion. "After all, if you had kept administering that particular herb…" He trailed off ominously.

"What is he talking about, Gaius?" the king demanded.

Again, Gaius hesitated, but ultimately he admitted, "Rosemary would increase the bleed of a hemorrhage, sire."

Uther's face paled. Edwin, to Merlin's surprise, was quick to come to Gaius's defense. "You mustn't blame him, sire," he urged. "Even the best of us miss something every once in a while."

Gaius crossed his arms over his chest. "I missed nothing," he insisted. "There was no blood."

"You can see for yourself that there is now!" Uther exclaimed. He took a deep breath, handed the soiled cloth to Edwin, and asked, "Will you be able to cure her?"

Something like triumph flashed in Edwin's eyes for a split second, but Merlin couldn't be sure what that meant. His suspicions of the man only continued to grow, but Edwin seemed nothing but genuinely interested in helping Morgana. Was Merlin's loyalty to Gaius causing him to imagine dubious intent in Edwin's expression?

"Now that I know the cause of the sickness, yes, I can." A smile bloomed on his face at the collective breath that those gathered let out. "I will need to set up my equipment somewhere close by." He turned to Merlin. "Follow me, boy, there is much work to be done."

* * *

Edwin ended up setting up shop in a rarely used servant's room next to Morgana's chambers. Merlin supposed that Gwen would have lived there if she didn't have a home of her own in the lower town. It took many breath-stealing trips up and down the stairs to transport all of his equipment to his new workplace, but Edwin was kind enough to help so that Merlin didn't have to cart everything on his own, which Merlin greatly appreciated. More and more he was finding himself liking Edwin, for the man, despite his unusual appearance and almost pompous air of mystery, had been nothing but kind and helpful to everyone he had met during his time in the castle. The only real seed of negativity Merlin retained toward the physician came very clearly from Merlin's own fealty to Gaius.

Merlin heaved the last box onto the table in the center of the room and wiped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. He would be feeling this in pretty much every muscle in the morning. "What is all this?" he asked, hoping Edwin caught on to the curiosity in his voice and didn't think Merlin was being too nosy.

Edwin answered easily: "Just the tools of my trade. Scientific instruments, potions, ingredients." He saw Merlin's eyes focused on the wild assortment of tubes, bronze scales and weights, vials and beakers and smiled. "This equipment," he said grandly, letting a scarred hand hover over the mass of strange objects, "was developed specifically for alchemy."

"You mean… making gold?" Merlin asked, surprised.

Edwin's eyes lit up in approval. "Among other things, yes." He studied Merlin closely for a long few seconds before following up with, "You seem remarkably well informed for a mere servant. Do you study science or medicine?"

Merlin felt his cheeks burn at the compliment. He had been called many things throughout his life, but smart was generally not one of them. "Ah, no, I just spend a lot of time around Gaius," he admitted. "I just pick up things here and there."

"Perhaps you should study under me while you are here," Edwin suggested. "A bright lad like you is wasted as a serving boy, even to a prince." Merlin was both flattered and uncomfortable at the man's words. "After all, science is the most important thing you can learn in this life. It explains everything."

Merlin considered this carefully before rebutting, "It doesn't explain love."

Edwin chuckled. "Perhaps not." His eyes were sharp and quick. "Are you in love with anyone Merlin?"

Merlin's entire face felt as if it had been shoved into a pile of embers. "Me? No, no, I'm not in love with anyone."

"Not even the Lady Morgana?" Edwin asked innocently. "She is rather beautiful."

Merlin hadn't thought his face and ears could get any hotter. He was wrong. "I am well beneath her station," he choked out, wishing with everything within him that he could turn tail and escape this conversation immediately.

Edwin laughed again. "That's not what I asked." But, thankfully, he let the matter drop.

"Let's just get this last box unpacked, and then I will return to the lady's chambers to administer the remedy," he suggested. Merlin gladly aquiested - he would have done most anything to get away from the subject matter of his love life, or lack thereof.

Merlin reached into the crate and pulled out the first thing his fingertips touched, an ornate little box, crafted like a tiny treasure chest, a dark wood with bronze overlays depicting abstract designs of shapes and words that he didn't immediately recognize. Something about the box entranced him. It almost buzzed beneath his fingers; a strange energy seemed to flow through his body at contact. Even though he knew it was rude, that one should never snoop into someone else's things, especially right in front of them, Merlin experienced a nearly inescapable pull to open the lid, to see what was inside.

Edwin snatched the box out of Merlin's hands before the sorcerer had a chance to do anything more than consider opening it. "Yes, we will need that," he said somewhat stiffly, quickly stuffing the box into a pocket in his cloak and out of sight. Merlin's curiosity was the opposite of assuaged, however; that box, for whatever reason, had called out to him. It could be important to his mission from Arthur as well. He would try to examine it closer whenever Edwin wasn't around, assuming the man left it unattended.

Edwin foraged around on the cluttered table as Merlin finished unpacking the box, surfacing with a few corked vials and a sprig of an herb Merlin was unfamiliar with.

"I must go to the Lady Morgana at once," he said. Merlin made to follow him, but he was swiftly waved off. "I don't need any more help today, thank you," he said quickly. "I need total quiet and complete concentration to properly administer this cure."

Merlin found this odd, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he nodded and walked the opposite direction after exiting the room behind Edwin, toward Arthur's chambers instead of Morgana's.

* * *

"Well?" Arthur demanded as soon as Merlin let himself into the prince's chambers.

"Well what?"

Arthur shot Merlin an annoyed glance. "Did you find out anything about him or what he's planning on doing to cure Morgana?"

"Not as such," Merlin admitted. "He really loves science and alchemy, and he seems nice enough, though maybe a bit too friendly at times."

Merlin watched Arthur's eyes immediately harden. "Too friendly how?"

Realizing that perhaps "too friendly" had not been the best choice of words because of what they might imply, Merlin quickly backtracked. "Not like that; he just asked some questions that were a bit too personal for my taste."

Arthur's eyes remained narrowed, but he did relax a bit in his seat. "Like what?"

Merlin's ears grew hot. "Nothing important, I promise. Forget I said anything." _Please_ , he pleaded in his head. He really did not want Arthur to think that there was any chance he was smitten with the king's ward, or anyone at all, for that matter. He would never hear the end of the teasing.

Merlin could see in Arthur's expression that he _really_ wanted to know, but he ended up letting the matter drop because he had more important things to talk about. Merlin had a nasty feeling that Arthur would bring this up again at a later time, once things had settled down, and he could only pray that the prince would be so overjoyed to see Morgana healed that he would forget to revisit the subject. "Well, anything else? Surely you discerned _something_ useful about him." Arthur took a moment to reflect on what he had just said, then made a face and amended, "I forget who I'm talking to."

"Actually, there was one odd thing," Merlin answered, ignoring the dig. "There was a strange box with carvings and words on it that he was really protective of. As soon as I touched it, he grabbed it and hid it away."

"He probably just doesn't like people putting their grubby servants' hands on his things," Arthur suggested.

"I think there were words of magic on the lid," Merlin revealed, realizing as soon as he said it that the words he hadn't recognized were indeed from the Old Tongue.

Arthur leaned forward, expression darkening. "He's a sorcerer?"

"I don't know for sure," Merlin responded carefully, trying not to feel hurt at Arthur's increased suspicion at the idea. "But the box had a strange kind of energy, and I'm almost certain that there was a spell on the lid." At the concern marring Arthur's face, the sorcerer felt an intense need to stick up for Edwin in the light of their possible shared affinity for magic. "But you had no problem with me using magic to try and heal her. So what if he's a sorcerer? If it works, it works, right?"

Arthur heaved a tense breath. "I know _you_ , Merlin, but I know next to nothing about him. Like I've said before, most other sorcerers I've encountered have not had pure intentions."

Merlin refused to budge on the matter. "I'm not some crazy exception to the world of magic," he argued.

"But you said it yourself - you are," Arthur returned, almost gently. "You are the only one who was ever born with magic as far as Gaius knows. So that makes you unique."

"That has nothing to do with whether I'm good or evil, and you know it, Arthur." Merlin stood his ground despite the knowledge that he could be pushing the prince too far.

Arthur, though, just eyed his servant critically for a few charged seconds before scrubbing a hand over his face and partially ceding the point. "Perhaps."

It was something, Merlin supposed, but if Edwin truly did end up having less than good intentions, then he truly feared for Arthur's newly tolerant views on magic. Merlin was very grateful that the prince trusted him, but that, ultimately, wasn't enough. He needed to understand that not every person who used magic had nefarious purposes. That there were more good sorcerers than just Merlin himself. There had to be, although Merlin hadn't actually met any personally.

_If you do have magic, please cure Morgana,_ _and prove me right_ , Merlin thought desperately. _Show Arthur the truth about us._

* * *

By the time Edwin had finished treating Morgana, Uther and Arthur, along with Gaius and Merlin, had congregated outside of Morgana's chambers, waiting with bated breath for any news.

Edwin emerged at last, his cowl around his shoulders, his unreadable face on full display. His hands were folded neatly before him, his head angled toward the ground, the perfect picture of a loyal subject. It made Gaius's skin crawl.

"Well?" the king asked expectantly. To most people, it would seem that the king was only angry and impatient, but Gaius had known the man for a long time and could hear the hope and fear warring for dominance in his voice. "How is she?"

Edwin let a small smile appear on his face as he answered, gesturing for them to enter the room, "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

The suspicion that had been nagging at Gaius since first laying eyes on the man now became a deafening roar. There was no way that Edwin had cured Morgana from her illness, especially so quickly, with any natural means. Gaius did not have the hatred for magic that Uther did, and so it was not the idea of Edwin using magic that bothered him so. There was something else, something familiar, like he had known the lad long ago, as if in a dream. This, mingled with the sense of foreboding that living as long as Gaius endowed, screamed at Gaius that everything about this situation was wrong.

He would have to be very careful in the future, and to keep a close eye out for trouble. He had a nasty feeling that this was far from over.

* * *

When Morgana awoke, it was to an unfamiliar face that sent unbidden shivers down her spine and an unexplainable crawling sensation all over her body. It wasn't his scarred visage that unnerved her so; it was his eyes, she thought blearily as she tried to shrink away from the form leaning over her and found that her body was weaker than she could ever remember. His eyes, though looking at her in what appeared to be kindness, had a strange light to them that Morgana couldn't explain.

Thankfully, he stood up, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach those eyes.

Her head hurt. She closed her eyes, determined to crawl back into sleep, into that dark, comforting place where strange, cloaked men didn't lurk by bedsides like living nightmares and weakness and pain didn't exist because there was nothing for them to reside in. But a voice spoke, strange, oddly lilting. He said her name.

"Wh-who are you?" Morgana demanded as fiercely as she could, but there was little power behind her words. She was so tired.

"My name is Edwin Muirden," the stranger answered, as if that explained anything. If she had the strength, she would have given this Edwin Muirden a piece of her mind. Before she could make any attempt to do just that, however, he followed up with, "I am a physician, my lady, and I have just cured you of a terrible illness."

"Illness?" Perhaps that was why she felt so tired. But, if she had been ill, then - "Where's Gaius?"

Edwin smiled in what could only be an apologetic manner. "I'm afraid your illness was too severe for even Gaius to properly cure." Morgana could have sworn that she heard a hint of glee in his voice, but it was gone so quickly that she supposed she could have imagined it, protective as she felt for Gaius, the grandfatherly old man who had taken care of her hurts and ills her entire life. "But let us focus on more happy things," Edwin insisted before Morgana had a chance to further reflect. "Your loved ones are right outside the door, waiting for you to wake. Shall I call for them?"

Part of Morgana wanted simply to go back to sleep until the unbearable fatigue she was engulfed in could be staved off, but even more she wanted to see the faces of those familiar to her, those she loved. Waking up to a stranger telling her that she had just returned from the brink of death had proven to be quite unsettling, and she knew she truly could not rest until she saw her friends and knew that she was safe.

Uther entered first, and Morgana thought with surprise that she had rarely seen him look so vulnerable. His eyes were tired and red-rimmed as he crossed the room to stand at her bedside. "I thought I was going to lose you," he said as he approached her, his voice thick with emotion, and he planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

Even as the king's ward, Morgana had hardly ever seen the king display an emotional side, unless the emotion was anger or exasperation. Now more than ever she found herself at odds with the man; they clashed over court politics, his views on his people, and sometimes even magic. And on the occasions that she was not disagreeing with him, Uther was a king much, much more than he was a guardian. He didn't express affection openly.

Touched by this uncharacteristic display, Morgana offered the king a weak smile. "It's good to be back."

Arthur and Gaius entered behind the king and congregated at the foot of her bed. Arthur flashed her a rare, genuine grin and Gaius gave a wrinkled smile that she thought looked more like a grimace. There was something bothering the old physician, she was sure of it. Once she was well enough, she would get him alone and find out what was going on. Something was rotten in Camelot; the strange man who had healed her of an even stranger illness that Gaius could not was alarming in and of itself, but seeing Gaius so bothered in the wake of Morgana's being healed did not settle well with the king's ward.

Morgana's eyes caught movement at the doorway, and she glanced over to see two figures lingering just inside her chambers. Merlin was grinning as widely as she had ever seen, and Gwen stood silently beside him, her eyes swimming in unshed tears and a soft smile on her lips. Morgana noticed that she was gripping Merlin's sleeve rather tightly, as if holding herself up. Morgana smiled warmly at the pair and gave a little wave. The king, who had been conversing with the strange healer, Edwin, cast a glance over his shoulder to see who she was gesturing to, but quickly turned back to his conversation when he saw the servants. While the king's habit of overlooking the serving staff normally annoyed her, Morgana now thought perhaps it was a blessing; with Merlin's magic, it was best for the king to barely notice his existence. He'd be safer that way.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Morgana felt weariness nipping at her from all directions. Thankfully, Gaius seemed to notice and pointed out sagely to the king that Morgana needed to rest. Uther quickly heeded the old physician's advice and ushered everyone out of the room, but not before Morgana caught an irritated expression on Edwin's face as he too moved to follow Gaius's advice.

* * *

Merlin didn't have time to reconvene with Arthur about Edwin until he brought the prince his dinner that evening, but with said dinner he brought a huge bit of surprising news about the man who had so graciously healed Morgana. A part of him was hesitant to impart this revelation because of the deep-seated fear that Arthur wouldn't take it well, especially regarding their previous unresolved conversation on the matter, but ultimately he reasoned that he had to trust Arthur just as Arthur had chosen to trust him.

And so, when he set the prince's dinner down in front of him, he announced without preamble in hushed tones, "Edwin definitely has magic."

Arthur choked on the roll he'd just snagged from the plate. Eyes watering, he reached for the goblet of water and gulped some down before clearing his throat and meeting an anxious Merlin's gaze. "Excuse me?"

"Edwin has magic," Merlin repeated. Without invitation - not that he ever waited for one - he took the seat at the table across from Arthur and watched for Arthur's reaction nervously.

Arthur sat forward in his chair, almost stuck his elbow in his food, then pushed it aside, abandoning the idea of dinner all together. "So it wasn't just the box that had magic then?" he asked, his expression unreadable. "Are you positive? How did you find out?"

Merlin hesitated, an uncomfortable, almost guilty look revealing that there was something that he was thinking about hiding. "Tell me, _Mer_ lin," Arthur ordered, perhaps a bit more fiercely than he'd intended, but Merlin had to stop merely flirting with the concept of honesty - he had to tell Arthur the truth about _everything_ , or this wasn't going to work. He reminded his servant of this: "How can I trust you with your magic if you keep things from me?"

Arthur's tone was level - he tried to remain calm when discussing the subjects of magic and truth with the sorcerer, because he'd seen multiple times how twitchy Merlin was regarding his secret. Even though he felt pretty comfortable using his magic in front of Arthur at this point, a part of him seemed to be stuck in a terrified way of thinking, like if he slipped up once, everything would fall to pieces. Despite this even tone, however, Merlin still flinched like he had been threatened.

"You can trust me, Arthur," he insisted, and then plunged ahead into his explanation without giving the prince a chance to respond, as if to prove as quickly as possible that he could indeed be trusted. "I know because he told me he has magic. He showed me."

Arthur eyed his servant disbelievingly. "He just… came up to you and announced that he had magic?"

"Sort of," Merlin hedged. There he went again. Keeping secrets was so second-nature to the sorcerer at this point that he probably didn't even realize he was doing it, Arthur thought.

"Define 'sort of.'"

Merlin shifted awkwardly in his seat. "Promise you won't be mad?" He looked up at Arthur from beneath his lashes and looked so much like a child in that moment that the prince nearly laughed.

Pitiful as he was, Arthur could make no promises. "With a lead-in like that, I think it would be irresponsible of me to make that promise," he remarked dryly. When Merlin hesitated again, he rolled his eyes. "Just tell me."

"He told me he had magic after he… well, after he found out that I have magic, too." Merlin said this in such a jumbled rush that Arthur almost didn't comprehend it. As it was, he let the words hang in the air for a long, uncomfortable moment before responding, too exhausted to be anything but exasperated. Cupping his face in his hands, he let out a manic chuckle before looking over at Merlin, who in turn was gazing anxiously back at him.

"I swear, Merlin," Arthur sighed, "for someone whose entire life relies on keeping secrets, you're awful at keeping them." Sending his servant a longsuffering glance, he prompted, "Well? Don't keep me in suspense any longer. What the hell happened?"

And so, with a wary eye on his master, Merlin spoke.

* * *

_Merlin wasn't satisfied with what he'd learned about Edwin - seeing as it was practically nothing - and he knew that the man's healing of Morgana was nothing short of suspicious. And the way that he had insinuated that Gaius had made a mistake that had almost cost Morgana her life… The man was certainly up to no good now, there was no doubt about it, despite Merlin's earlier goodwill toward the healer. If Gaius hadn't been able to cure Morgana, then Merlin doubted it could have been done by normal means. And Gaius didn't make mistakes. Not like this._

_So while Edwin conferred in the throne room with the king, Merlin took advantage of the opportunity and slipped into the man's work room. Knowing just what he was looking for made his job that much easier. Within a couple of minutes, he had found the odd box amongst the strange metal instruments and scientific equipment. He studied the words on the lid, but didn't say them aloud. Instead, he undid the latch and lifted the lid, surprised that he was able to do so without saying the incantation._

_Whatever surprise he felt was dwarfed by the shock of what lay within the box. Insects - tens, if not hundreds of them - filled the chest, little black things that glittered like grotesque shards of obsidian. Merlin almost dropped the box in an instinctive need to be as far away from the creatures as possible, but then he realized - they weren't moving. Were they dead? Merlin didn't think so._

_Thinking hard, trying to find an explanation for this strange turn of events, Merlin shut the box on the static swarm and contemplated the words engraved on the lid. With many reservations, he spoke the words aloud. When nothing happened that he could see, Merlin lifted the top and peeped in, gut squirming in revulsion when he saw the mass of beetles writhing and crawling all over one another. It wasn't just because they were insects. Most insects didn't bother Merlin all that much. But there was something wrong about these._

_Merlin nearly jumped out of his neckerchief as Edwin's voice sounded behind him. "So you have magic."_

_Merlin spun, panic rising. Maybe Arthur was right, and there was something wrong with him. How was it that more people had discovered his magic in the few months he'd been in Camelot than all the years that had come before?_

_Merlin tried to deny it, but knew from experience that it was pointless. "No, I -"_

" _It's okay," Edwin said. "You don't have to hide it from me." He spoke another incantation, and the insects immediately fell still._

* * *

Arthur stood abruptly. "His magic," he mused, "Did he use it to heal Morgana? And what was the deal with the insects?"

Merlin watched Arthur closely before he answered, trying to gauge how Arthur was taking this news. Would he immediately jump to suspicion and anger because Edwin had magic? Was Merlin the only one Arthur was giving the benefit of the doubt, or was he learning that not all magic was bad?

"Merlin!" Arthur barked impatiently.

"He, ah, he said that he did use magic to heal Morgana. He said the beetles were used to heal the damages to her brain."

Arthur wrinkled his nose in disgust but chose not to further acknowledge that disturbing revelation. "Okay. What else is he up to?"

Despite his own suspicions about the healer, Merlin was hurt by Arthur's inherent distrust of someone with magic after everything he'd seen from his servant. These feelings came out, as they often did, as irritation. "So if he has magic, he's automatically up to something?" Merlin snapped, perhaps a little more harshly than he'd intended.

Arthur paused, a flash of aggravation flitting across his own face at the outburst. "Have you forgotten our earlier conversation? I told you I trusted you, Merlin," the prince said peevishly. "Is that suddenly not enough for you?"

"And I _told_ you," Merlin argued obstinately, "magic itself isn't evil. But seeing as you still seem determined to distrust magic anyway…" He knew he was pushing it with Arthur, and he also knew he wasn't being fair. He himself had already voiced his suspicions about Edwin's intentions. Arthur's distrust of the man might have nothing to do with magic. And if it did, would that be so surprising? Arthur was still new to the world of magic. The only sorcerer he'd met that hadn't attempted to kill him was Merlin. It would take time. And Merlin himself had told the prince that even if he never repealed the law against magic in Camelot, he would still stand by his side. Was he that fickle, having become so spoiled with Arthur's acceptance that he couldn't settle for just that? This was a dangerous line of thinking, and he backed down immediately.

"I'm sorry," the servant muttered, ducking his head and glancing up to see Arthur's angry, somewhat startled expression soften. "That wasn't fair." He let his gaze drop back down.

Arthur was terrifyingly quiet for several long moments before he spoke again, his voice slow and measured. Merlin couldn't tell if he was trying to keep anger out of his voice or if he was simply trying to make sure he didn't misspeak. "You're right," he agreed. "It wasn't." Merlin felt his face burn hot. "But," Arthur continued in a slightly lighter tone, "I am not completely blind to what you must be feeling, either. I know it must be important to you that I see magic the way that you do. But this is all so new to me." An unusual vulnerability manifested itself briefly in Arthur's face and stance, but was quickly smoothed away once more. "I will try to understand - I am _trying_ to understand - but I need time. For now, can it be enough that I trust you?" A slight hesitation, then - "Please, Merlin. For now, let it be enough."

Merlin had to clear a lump from his throat before he was able to respond, a cacophony of emotions fighting for dominance, understanding, disappointment, and shame chief among them. "Of course. It's enough."

Arthur offered a curt nod in response, then immediately latched onto a subject not emotionally charged with the desperation of a starving man who has just discovered a feast. "We can agree, though, that magic aside, there is something off about Edwin?"

Merlin did his best to shake off the residual feelings from their prior argument and nodded. "He's likable enough, but whatever that box is, it's just… wrong. If he is in possession of it, I don't think he can be up to anything good."

Arthur considered this. "I've had a strange feeling about him myself, from the beginning. It's odd, though. What evil could come out of healing Morgana?"

A dark thought stole into Merlin's mind. He hesitated to express it, especially with no proof, but Arthur had seen the cogs turning in his servant's head, had realized when something clicked.

"What?" he demanded.

Merlin sighed heavily. "What if … what if he was able to heal Morgana only because _he_ was the one to make her ill in the first place?"

Arthur paled. "Why would he try to kill her and then save her life?"

Merlin's thoughts were racing, going over everything that Edwin had said and done since he'd arrived in Camelot. Words he had spoken and sympathetic insinuations regarding Gaius's competency began to fit amongst the other puzzle pieces, the strange magic and odd vibes that Edwin had given off. "Maybe his goal wasn't to kill Morgana," Merlin realized. "Maybe she was just a means to get something else."

Arthur twisted his ring nervously. He seemed on the edge of agreeing with Merlin, but he was not quite convinced. Maybe everything hadn't quite come together in his own mind, or maybe he didn't want to think about the possible implications. "So, what… he's after a reward? Power? Recognition?"

"Maybe," Merlin said, but something still wasn't settling well with that theory, either. Whatever Edwin's intentions, the sorcerer couldn't help but think that they were more sinister in nature.

"Well, until we have something more solid to go on than _maybe_ , I want you to try to stay as close to Edwin as possible," Arthur finally decided. "Take him up on his offer to train you. I'll continue to lend your services to him as long as he's in Camelot."

Merlin nodded. He felt a bit uneasy about the prospect of spending more time with the strange man and his unsettling box of beetles, but he agreed with Arthur - he could think of no better plan at the moment.

"Okay," he said. "I'll do it."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of course you'll do it, _Mer_ lin. I ordered you to." Merlin scoffed, drawing a small grin from Arthur. "But - and this is important, so pay attention, Merlin - you must not let him know that we have any suspicions. You must be _subtle_. You do know what subtlety is, Merlin?"

At the intentionally patronizing tone, Merlin huffed, "I certainly know what it's not."

Surely Arthur had to know that he was walking into something. And yet, he asked, "And what's that, Merlin?"

"Prince Arthur."

He ducked as Arthur flung a goblet at his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented on, left kudos for, or bookmarked this story so far
> 
> It was nice to end on a lighter note for once. :) Obviously a lot of canon things happened in this chapter, along with a lot of tension between our boys on the subject of magic. I really wanted to slow down in the middle of this arc to explore this idea of how they are still somewhat at odds with their perception of magic in general, because I think it will only serve to strengthen their relationship in the future. Next chapter will diverge much more from the actual episode, as well as have some Mergana moments that I've been dying to write. Like I've said, the focus of this fic isn't romance, but if romance happens along the way, who am I to say no in the face of love? ;)
> 
> Quick note: If you want to keep up with any updates or changes or just me in general, I've created a new Twitter, mostly for fan-fiction, updates, and musings. My Twitter handle is emcatfanfic. Please follow me if you're interested at all! :) I'm also on Tumblr now (Emachinescat), and I'm posting all kinds of fun stuff there - including deleted scenes, old fics with commentary, new fics, Febuwhump stories, and more!
> 
> All right, that's it for this chapter. Please let me know your thoughts! I realize this was a slower chapter, but I really enjoyed writing it, and I feel like it is so needed, as Arthur's learning about Merlin's magic is still going to raise some issues in their relationship even after Arthur has accepted it. Anyway, thanks again for taking the time to read! I'll see you soon with the next part!
> 
> ~Emachinescat ^..^


	10. A Remedy to Cure All Ills, Part Three

It took less than a week to find out what it was that Edwin was truly after, and honestly, it would have been quite easy to discover the truth even if Merlin had not spied on him as Arthur had asked. Edwin wasn't exactly subtle about his goal, though he did mask it in a nauseating slew of apologetics, kind words, hesitant smiles, and flattery. By the time that he had approached the king with his concerns about the current physician's competency, all was made very clear to Arthur and Merlin: He wanted Gaius's job.

What wasn't clear was _why_.

Morgana, who had nearly recovered, though perhaps a bit paler and more fragile than usual, had been the most outspoken during the audience with the aspiring healer, defending Gaius boldly from her seat at Uther's side. Although she had no response when reminded of how close she had come to death because of Gaius's lapse in judgment - which they were absolutely certain was no fault of Gaius's at all now - she had stormed out of the throne room after the meeting was adjourned, seething at how quickly her guardian had agreed to allow Edwin to examine Gaius's work over the years more closely, just in case.

She was waiting for Arthur at his chamber door when he arrived, troubled and weary from trying to work everything out.

"Morgana, you must be feeling better," Arthur said in surprise. "You must have run all the way here."

"Not quite; you're just slow," Morgana teased, but there was no real fun in the jab. She was worried, he could see it in her green eyes.

Arthur opened his door and gestured for her to enter. "Sit down," he offered.

Morgana shook her head. "You and Uther need to stop treating me like I'm made of glass," she complained. "I'm fine."

Arthur didn't respond, but stood before her rather uncomfortably. This was the first time he'd had a chance to talk to Morgana alone since she had been ill, and since he had learned that they had been unknowingly linked in sharing Merlin's secret for months now. Mogana, of course, was unaware that Arthur knew, and the weight of their shared knowledge of such a big secret hung heavy over him.

"I don't trust Edwin," Morgana cut straight to the point, as always.

Arthur lifted an eyebrow. He couldn't say he was surprised; loyalty had always come so easily to Morgana, and he knew she would remain loyal to the physician who had cared for her and been like an uncle or grandfather to her all her life. Still, though - Edwin had brought her back from the brink of death - surely that counted for something?

"And I know what you're thinking," she continued. "I _know_ that Edwin saved me, but do you see the way he's trying to slowly undermine Gaius in front of Uther? He may act repentant, but he's ruthless. He's trying to discredit Gaius, maybe even take his position as court physician!"

She must have expected Arthur to argue with her, for her red lips fell open in a rare show of astonishment when the prince let out a great puff of air and said, "I know. But _why_?"

Morgana quickly regained her composure. "I… haven't quite worked that out yet. But I do think it is awfully convenient that he was in exactly the right place at the right time, when I suddenly became gravely ill. It makes me wonder if he somehow didn't know I would fall sick."

Arthur thought about the conversations he and Merlin had had on this very subject. More and more he was ascribing to Merlin's theory that Edwin could have caused Morgana's sickness in the first place, though he did not voice this aloud now.

Morgana still stood there, watching him with an odd, almost expectant expression on her fair face.

"Is there something else?" Arthur asked tiredly. He still had to train the knights before dinner, and he was already mentally and physically exhausted. He'd hoped to grab a quick catnap before Merlin came in to help him into his light armor for the session.

"Actually, yes, there is. Especially with your own doubts about Edwin, I am appalled that you have just offered up Merlin's services to him like you have! What if he's dangerous?"

Arthur thought briefly about telling Morgana about Edwin's magic, but decided to hold out a bit longer as he had no idea how she would react. According to Merlin, she'd been all too happy to keep his magic a secret, but if she had the same misgivings as Arthur about other magic, he didn't want to overstress her. She'd said she was fine, but there were light smudges of exhaustion lingering under her eyes, and an almost imperceptible tightness to the corners of her mouth, as if she were fighting the last remnants of her sickness.

Arthur shrugged half-heartedly. "Merlin can take care of himself."

Morgana's eyes narrowed. "I thought even you cared more than that."

Arthur was confused for a moment with the understanding that Morgana knew just as well as he did that Merlin had ways of protecting himself beyond what his scrawny appearance suggested. Then it dawned on him that Morgana still didn't know that Arthur knew about Merlin's magic. Her disapproval stemmed not from Merlin's being in any real danger, but on principle alone, it seemed - she was upset because she thought Arthur was willingly throwing his supposedly defenseless servant into harm's way. Arthur found himself to be both touched and annoyed by this revelation, and briefly he considered telling Morgana that he knew. He quickly decided against it, not necessarily because he felt he owed it to Merlin to tell her himself, but rather because he didn't want to be further in Morgana's ire but rather relished the idea of Merlin being on her bad side for once.

"He volunteered," Arthur said, which wasn't true, but it might get Morgana off of his case.

"And you just let him do it?"

Arthur barked out a sharp laugh. "Morgana, have you _ever_ known Merlin to do anything that he doesn't want to do?"

Morgana quirked a small smile at that. "I suppose not. He and I are very much alike in that manner, I believe."

Arthur let that comparison hang in the air between them, unsure of where to take the conversation from here but glad that Morgana had backed off for the time being.

She broke the silence. "Well, let me know if you find anything. I'd like to talk to Edwin myself-"

"Please, don't," Arthur quickly cut in. "Let us handle it."

"Why, because I'm a woman?" Morgana bristled.

"No, because you're still recovering. And because we already have something in the works, and it would be foolish to add another asset at this point."

Morgana sent him a quelling look. "I'm much more subtle and better at extracting information than you and Merlin combined."

"What, because you're a woman?" Arthur sullenly threw her own words back at her.

With a mischievous smirk, Morgana dipped her head. "Among other reasons." At Arthur's annoyed frown, she chuckled. "Don't worry, Arthur, I won't mess up your plan. But I do intend to find out what Edwin is up to, and why he seems so keen on Gaius's position. If you and Merlin want to do the same, I suggest you up your game."

"This isn't a race, Morgana!" Arthur cried, exasperated. "It isn't a game."

Her eyes sparkled. "It is now."

Her dress rippled at her ankles as she traipsed purposefully from the room.

* * *

A weight had settled in right on Gaius's heart, nestling there like a dark, brooding cat the moment that he made the connection between Edwin Muirden and the young boy whose parents had burned for dark magic during the Purge.

It had not been easy for the old physician to obtain the records from that bleak time in Camelot's recent history - it was only his deep friendship with the court genealogist and record-keeper, Geoffrey of Monmouth, that had allowed him the opportunity. It was a huge risk, digging out the cursed records of the scores of men, women, and children killed in Uther's fantatic tirade against magic. Initially, Gaius's old friend had refused to lend him the records, knowing that if they were caught, they could both be killed. However, he must have seen the urgency in his friend's eyes, or maybe he just felt sorry for Gaius, who was steadily on the track, it seemed, to be replaced as Court Physician.

It all made sense, Gaius mused dejectedly as he made his way slowly but purposefully down the corridor to Edwin's chambers. He was amazed he hadn't figured it out immediately. The burn scars on Edwin's face, he'd seen them when they were fresh, seen them on the face of a devastated child who had just tried to leap into the flames of a pyre to rescue his burning parents from their execution. Gaius had witnessed many terrible things during the Purge, and Edwin's plight was one of the most heartbreaking. Perhaps he had put it off from his memory because of this. With this memory resurfaced many of the feelings of shame and horror at what he'd stood by and watched twenty years ago. These too, he had managed to quell except for in the darkest hours of the night when sleep decided not to come.

But he had moved on from that, he told himself firmly. He had done what he'd had to do to survive, and it was good that he had. If he too had been killed in the Purge, who would have been in Camelot to help Merlin keep his daft head on his shoulders?

Taking a deep breath, Gaius knocked on Edwin's door.

It took so long for the man to answer that at first Gaius thought he was out. Then the door swung open to reveal the healer who Gaius could now only see as a poor orphan, salty tears pouring into bloody burns, having failed to save his parents from the pyre.

Gaius shook himself out of the memory. He was here for a purpose.

"Gaius!" Edwin exclaimed. "It's good to see you. Come in, please."

Gaius made his way slowly into the room and stood before Edwin like an old leaning willow - frail in body but with roots branching wide and stubbornly planted in his purpose. "I remember you now," he said bluntly. "I am ashamed I didn't see it before. Edwin Muirden - I remember treating you when you tried to save your parents from the pyre."

True shock registered briefly on the man's scarred face before he quickly recovered. "Very clever, Gaius. I didn't expect you to remember them, or me, since you just stood idly by while they burned to death."

Gaius ignored the stab of guilt that assaulted him. He countered, "Your parents were practicing dark magic, doing some truly evil things." That, at least, was true.

"That's a lie," Edwin said flatly, and only the rage burning in his eyes betrayed him. "But even if it were not, what about all of the innocent people who burned who were not guilty of anything other than practicing harmless magic? What about those who were accused of sorcery and killed though they had none? They must have deserved to die, too, seeing as you stood complacently at the king's side and watched them suffer as well."

Gaius shook his head. "I did what I could to gain Uther's ear for the innocent," he protested.

"Well, it wasn't enough, but I'm sure knowing you did _something_ has helped you sleep at night."

Gaius glared back at the younger man. "I don't need to explain myself to you," he retorted.

"No, I suppose that's why you are here, correct? Now that you've found me out, you need to discover why I'm back here in Camelot, the hell that took everything from me."

Gaius interrupted, having already worked it out for himself. "You're here to kill the king," he said plainly, and again, momentary surprise lit in Edwin's eyes.

"You really are cleverer than you look, aren't you, old man?" A dangerous smile was spreading slowly across Edwin's face, and not for the first time, Gaius wondered if it had been wise to confront the man alone. "Have you worked out _how_ I'm going to do it yet? Hmm?"

"You're going to take my job as Court Physician," Gaius said wearily, "so that you can get close to the king. After that, I imagine you plan to poison him."

"Very good. And I suppose you are going to try to stop me?"

"I have more pull with the king than you do. He may be impressed by your trick with Morgana, but he will believe me if I tell him that you have magic."

"Will he?" Uncertainty flared in Gaius for the first time since he had entered the room. Why was Edwin so calm? "I mean, I suppose it's true, he very well might believe you ... In fact, let's go tell him together, right now, you and I!" He started for the door just behind a very confused Gaius but stopped when he was inches away from the old man's face. "Actually," he added in a low, dangerous voice, "while we're at it, why don't we tell him about Merlin, too?"

Icy terror clawed its way into Gaius's heart. He tried to play dumb. How did Edwin know? "What about him?"

"Merlin has magic," Edwin said gleefully, "and I like the lad, but if the king finds out I have magic, he finds out that Merlin does too. " He leaned in even closer, his voice adopting a deadly growl. "We can burn together, he and I … just like my parents did." He took a step back, flashed what would have been a friendly smile at the physician, and added, "And on that note, Gaius, why don't you just go ahead and step down as Court Physician? I'm sure the king would be very happy to let you retire … after all, you've given him _many_ years of loyal service."

His shoulder bumped Gaius's as he swept past the reeling physician and out of the room. Over his shoulder, he called back, "Oh, and if you tell anyone about this conversation, Gaius, well… you know what will happen."

* * *

Everything had gone wrong, so terribly wrong, and Gaius was at a loss of how to fix it. If he didn't give up his position as Court Physician to Edwin, if he didn't stand back and allow Edwin to kill the king - Gaius's friend, yes, but also Arthur's father - then Merlin would die. Gaius wished at once that he had left everything alone and never spoken with Edwin. If he hadn't gone digging into things that were honestly much better buried, then Merlin's life wouldn't be at risk.

He couldn't tell anyone else about Edwin's threats, either, that much had been made clear. Uther would probably believe Gaius about Edwin, but he'd certainly in turn believe Edwin about Merlin. In fact, the only people that even stood a chance of getting the king to listen to them … _both knew about Merlin's magic already and wanted to protect him as much as Gaius did_. Gaius could have slapped himself for not thinking of this sooner. _Perhaps I am getting too old_ … he thought, then hurried out of the chamber to search out a servant who could gather the two people he needed most.

* * *

Arthur was just finishing his dinner, and Merlin was doing some last-minute tidying in Arthur's chambers before he left to meet Edwin. He'd been helping the man with his rounds, but Edwin had also been teaching him magic on the side. Most of it was magic Merlin could already do instinctively, without verbal spells, but he did not of course tell Edwin that. It was interesting to now have more control over those spells, at least.

A knock on the door made both Merlin and Arthur glance up. Arthur hadn't been expecting a visitor, but he nodded to Merlin and said, "Get that on your way out, will you, Merlin?"

"Surely you're not tired of my charm already, Sire!" Merlin exclaimed, full aware that Arthur wasn't kicking him out but giving him leave to spy on Edwin once more.

"If you had charm of any kind, it would be refreshing," Arthur retorted. "I _am_ tired of your shoddy dusting job, though."

Merlin made a face and opened the door, surprised but pleased to see Morgana standing there. "My lady! How are you feeling? I'm sorry I haven't been to see you since you were ill; I've been-"

"Spying on Edwin, I know," Morgana finished for him as he let her in.

"Did you talk to him today like you planned?" Arthur asked her from across the room.

"I tried," Morgana answered, frustrated. "But I think he was avoiding me."

Arthur muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Can you blame him?"

"What was that?" Morgana's sharp voice showed clearly that she had heard exactly what Arthur had said.

"Nothing, nothing." He rushed on before Morgana could retort, "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Morgana glanced between Arthur and Merlin before shrugging. "A servant caught me on my way back from trying to speak to Edwin again. Gaius is apparently on his way to your chambers, Arthur. He wants to talk to us."

Merlin's brows furrowed in concern. "What? Why?"

Again, Morgana shrugged. "The servant didn't say." Appearing somewhat uncomfortable, she added, "She _did_ say that Gaius was looking for you, too, Merlin - apparently, he needs some herbs picked urgently. I told her that if I found you first, I'd tell you."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "What, now?"

"Apparently."

Merlin's crossed his arms, puzzled.

"Looks like Gaius wants you here less than I do, Merlin," Arthur goaded almost gleefully. He seemed greatly amused that the physician was so obviously trying to exclude Merlin from the conversation to come. A part of him, however, was a bit anxious. What had happened to cause Gaius to need to talk with Arthur and Morgana without Merlin there? Merlin was closer to Gaius than either of them.

"You don't know that," Merlin protested. He didn't look convinced, though - the hurt was reflected in his expression.

With a sympathetic smile, Morgana lay a white, slender hand on Merlin's shoulder and the sorcerer's face instantly turned a deep red. Arthur watched the interaction with amusement and some concern. His earlier misgivings that he'd had about whatever Merlin and Morgana's relationship was becoming resurfaced with the casual touch and Merlin's flushed reaction, but now wasn't the time to address this. He was probably overthinking things, he told himself. "I'm sure Gaius has a very good reason for needing you to collect provisions for him," Morgana said kindly.

Merlin shrugged miserably. "Maybe I can hide under the bed and listen in?" he suggested. Morgana grinned; Arthur fumed.

"You're not getting anywhere near under my bed unless you are cleaning it."

"The wardrobe?"

"The wardrobe is for _clothes_ , Merlin. Are you clothes?"

"C'mon, Arthur, I want-"

Another knock sounded at the door, and Gaius entered at Arthur's summons. "Merlin," Gaius said, and there was a strange expression on his face that none of the three younger people were able to accurately place. "What are you doing here? I need-"

"You need to talk to Arthur and Morgana alone," Merlin interrupted. "Why are you hiding things from me, Gaius?"

Gaius stiffened. "This matter has nothing to do with you in the slightest! It is regarding a health issue of the king, and he wishes as few people know about it as possible. Seeing as Arthur is his son and Morgana is his ward, they have every right to be a part of this conversation. You, however, do not."

Merlin glanced between Arthur and Morgana's alarmed faces and had the decency to look marginally cowed. "Right, sorry. I'll just… go."

"Merlin, I really do need you to gather some herbs for me," Gaius called out as Merlin started to leave. "I'm running low on supplies. The usual will work splendidly."

Merlin left, and when Gaius was very sure he was not listening at the door, he turned to an impatient Arthur with Morgana looking on in concern.

"Gaius - what's wrong with my father?" Arthur demanded.

Gaius smiled weakly. "Nothing is wrong with him," he answered. "I just needed a way to get Merlin to leave."

Arthur now appeared torn between relief and fresh concern. Morgana asked, "What could be so sensitive that you don't want Merlin to hear?"

Gaius told them about his confrontation with Edwin, his own worry for his ward growing with each word of the recounting. When he got the part about Edwin finding out about Merlin's magic, Morgana stiffened, her eyes wide in horror, casting her gaze anxiously between Gaius and Arthur. Seeing her reaction, Gaius turned to Arthur. "Has no one told her?" he asked sharply.

Morgana's eyes widened. "Wait - you _know_ about Merlin's magic, too?"

Arthur gave a curt nod. "I've known for a while," he answered.

"Since the Avanc?" Morgana was always quick to work things out in her head.

Arthur's response was a bit smug. "Before, actually."

"And you're okay with it? I mean, you've accepted him?" Morgana appeared to be confused that Merlin wasn't rotting in a cell, tied to a pyre, or at the very least, banished for life.

"Despite what you may think, Morgana," Arthur said tritely, "I don't always do everything my father tells me to."

Morgana had never looked at him quite the way that she did now - with pride and admiration. A warm feeling spread through his chest, and he thought he was like a child who had just been praised by its mother. It was nice, if a bit odd. Then she wondered aloud, "But why didn't Merlin tell me about this?" Arthur couldn't tell if she were hurt or irritated, if either, but before they could discuss the matter further, Gaius interrupted.

"Perhaps this is something that should be discussed at a later date?" he prompted urgently. "I have news of dire importance that must be addressed immediately."

By the time he had finished his tale, Morgana was fuming and Arthur was on his feet, reaching for his sword which lay propped against the wardrobe. Anger flashed in his eyes.

"How dare he?" he hissed. "He won't get away with this."

Just managing to maintain her composure, Morgana asked, "Is that why you sent him to collect, herbs, then, Gaius? To keep him away from Edwin?"

"As far away as possible, just in case," Gaius confirmed.

"I'm going to talk to my father immediately," Arthur said. "He will listen to me. Edwin's plan might have worked if Morgana and I didn't already know of Merlin's magic."

"You must be careful in how you speak to the king about this, Arthur," Gaius warned. "I fear that he already has little tolerance for Merlin as it is, so we must tread carefully."

"Don't worry," Morgana said pensively, "I am sure that everything will go smoothly."

* * *

It did not go smoothly.

Much of this was because of the fact that Edwin been lurking in a nearby corridor and had watched first Morgana then Gaius go into the prince's chambers. Shortly after, Merlin had left, looking down, and had been followed about fifteen minutes later by the other three, all with grimly set faces and purpose in their steps.

It could have been nothing. But Edwin had always been an extremely cautious individual, and though he couldn't imagine that Gaius would tell the prince or the lady about his threats against Merlin, especially regarding the boy's magic - or that either one of them would care, for that matter - something was off.

And so, listening to his instincts, he'd quickly turned tail and headed straight for the throne room. He, however, used the servant's passageways that he'd come to know while doing his rounds, and he arrived at his destination several precious minutes before Gaius, Morgana, and Arthur.

Those extra minutes at the king's ear were all he needed to secure success.

* * *

Gaius decided not to accompany Arthur and Morgana into the throne room, because if Edwin were somewhere nearby, he didn't want the man to get suspicious that Gaius was disobeying his orders.

The two nobles fairly burst into the hall, striding with great urgency toward the king.

"Father."

"Arthur! Thank goodness you're okay."

Arthur and Morgana exchanged confused glances. Unsure of how to respond to his father's strange exclamation, Arthur simply did what he had come here to do. He leaned forward conspiratorially and warned in hushed tones, "You cannot trust Edwin, Father."

Uther raised his eyebrows imperiously. "And why not?" He glanced at Morgana. "Surely, you do not feel the same, Morgana, seeing as he saved your life?"

"We have reason to believe that he was only able to heal me because he was the one who made me ill in the first place."

Uther shot them a withering look. "Why would he do that? And what proof do you have of this?" Arthur thought with a bit of concern that he king seemed to be taking this a little too well. He seemed relatively at ease despite the accusation that had just been made.

Arthur took a deep breath. What he was about to do felt like a betrayal to Merlin, even though the prince still wasn't sure where he stood on magic as a whole. But attributing all of Edwin's evil to having magic as his main argument against the man left a bitter taste in his mouth even as he revealed, "He has magic."

Arthur expected the king to leap up from his throne, immediately demand Edwin for questioning. Instead, he just looked at Morgana and Arthur with impatience and asked, "You saw him perform this magic?"

"Well, not personally," Arthur answered, quickly tagging on, "But my servant-"

"Your servant." Arthur was alarmed at the animosity that laced his father's words.

Nonplussed, Arthur looked at Morgana for help. She stepped in graciously, "While it is true that Merlin is a mere servant, he has always been truthful in the past, and he wasn't being deceptive when he told you about the snakes in Valiant's shield. Or when he was saving your son's life, for that matter." Arthur appreciated the way she so seamlessly managed to weave in some of the good deeds that Merlin had done to win over the good graces - or at least tolerant graces - of the king.

But Uther fairly snarled, "All a ruse to get close to you, to get close to me."

Arthur's heart seemed to stutter to an abrupt halt at his father's words. What exactly was he insinuating? He sensed Morgana shift beside him and realized that even she was out of her depth. "Why would he want to do that?" Arthur asked at last, trying to keep his voice steady.

Wearily, most of the rage melted from Uther's face and he slumped back in his seat, still managing, somehow, to appear regal even while slouching. "I'm sorry, Arthur - I know you have some affinity for the boy, but the truth is that he has never been who he said he was. I was a fool not to have seen it before."

Arthur forced himself not to look at Morgana in panic, knowing that might give them away. He didn't say anything, afraid that anything that came out of his mouth would only make things worse.

Uther continued, "He's a sorcerer."

Arthur's mouth fell open in fury, but Uther must have thought it was shock. "I understand, this is difficult to take in."

Flustered, Arthur scrabbled for the right words. "Father, I - did you not hear me? _Edwin_ is a sorcerer! Merlin told me himself that he witnessed the man doing dark magic!"

Uther shook his head. "He was trying to throw suspicion off of himself, Arthur. He must have sensed someone was close to discovering his secret. He is apparently not as stupid as he looks. He's using you to try to gain credibility with me. This is not the first time I've seen a ploy like this, and it certainly will not be the last." His voice hardened. "I have guards waiting at the gates, ready to arrest him the moment he steps foot back into the citadel - he was seen leaving Camelot not long ago. I want his sentence carried out quickly so that we-" and by _we_ he obviously meant Arthur, and maybe Morgana as well - "can put this business behind us. He'll hang at dawn."

Howling panic and rage clawed at the inside of Arthur's chest, and he was so busy trying to reign it in at this injustice that he couldn't speak. Thankfully, Morgana cut in. "And I assume it was Edwin who told you of Merlin's supposed sorcery? Have you stopped to consider that Edwin could be doing the very thing you are accusing Merlin of? Maybe he's accusing Merlin of magic to cast suspicion off himself because he knew we were on to him."

Uther snorted in derision, or maybe amusement. "Edwin has done nothing but good since he came to Camelot." His voice softened. "He saved your life, and he has treated so many others. He is the man whom I have chosen to be my new court physician - I will give Gaius a comfortable retirement; I am sure he will understand. He has earned it, especially with that boy he cares about betraying him."

"Merlin has done nothing but good since he came to Camelot!" Morgana spat back, eyes flashing. "He saved Arthur's life almost as soon as he got here! And again, warning us about the snakes - only _you_ wouldn't listen!"

Arthur realized two things as Uther replied angrily in turn to Morgana's words: One, his father had already made up his mind that Merlin was an evil sorcerer, and once he'd decided that someone was guilty, only glaring, obvious evidence of the truth would change his mind. And two, arguing with him was only going to make him more unreasonable on the subject, and make it that much more difficult to help Merlin in the long run, whatever that entailed. And so, before Morgana could continue the pointless exchange, he heaved a great sigh.

"Morgana… just stop," he said with as much defeat as possible. "I don't want to believe it either, but… why would Edwin lie?"

Morgana turned her furious gaze on him instead. "Arthur, how could you-"

"It's over, Morgana," he said pointedly. "Let's just do what the king says and get it over with as quickly as possible. Then we can move on with our lives." He let out a wry chuckle. "Who knows? Maybe next time, I'll get a servant who's halfway decent at his job." He prayed his father would believe his act.

Morgana's eyes widened almost imperceptibly as she realized what Arthur was doing and played along. Thankfully she didn't change her tune completely, as that would have been wholly unrealistic, but she did stop arguing with Uther, shoot Arthur a withering glare, and flounce out of the throne room.

Uther shook his head. "Well, that didn't go as badly as I had thought." He studied Arthur closely. "You do understand what has to happen, Arthur? The boy has to die, and soon."

Arthur nodded. "Yes."

"Good."

Arthur stood for a moment, uncertain of what to do with himself, so he inclined his head to where Morgana had just stood and asked, "With your leave…?"

"Yes, yes. Maybe you can talk some sense into her at least."

Arthur managed a dry laugh. "I don't know that anyone can do that."

It took everything within him not to bolt as fast as he could from the throne room, nausea building inside of him. He had to do something - soon. Merlin only had tonight, and if Arthur couldn't think of a way to save him, he would die at morning's light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking a short hiatus from this story to do Febuwhump on Tumblr (I'm posting my submissions here too). I'm hoping to start posting on this one again near the end of February, beginning of March, probably every two weeks if I can swing it. 
> 
> I'd love to know your thoughts - I hope you enjoyed getting three chapters in a row! More will be coming soon!
> 
> ~Emachinescat ^..^

**Author's Note:**

> I realize S1e1 is incredibly early on for Arthur to learn about Merlin's magic. But I absolutely do not think it would be out of character for Arthur to learn to accept it rather quickly during this time. In fact, I think it would be more likely that Arthur would accept it now than later.
> 
> For one, Arthur himself has not seen much in the way of magic affecting him negatively at this point. We can see even in the first few episodes that he doesn't hold the same hatred toward magic that his father does and doesn't understand it. He just goes along with what his dad says… except he doesn't, not really. In "The Mark of Nimeuh," he shows that he does not think that magic is inherently evil. We see this in the way that he remarks to his father that once magic is mentioned, Uther no longer listens. Then, he argues that even if Gwen did use magic to heal her father, it doesn't mean that she's the one who started the plague, and it doesn't mean she deserves to die. And finally, Most of us in the fandom seem to have come to the conclusion that ultimately, it is the breach of trust that will hurt Arthur in any reveal more than the magic itself. At this point, Merlin and Arthur's relationship is just starting to bud, so they don't have all this history that Merlin has lied to him through. And given that Arthur was willing to stand up for Gwen even if she did have magic, I have no problem believing that this early on in the series he would do the same for Merlin, even without that history. His hatred toward magic only really festers once he's seen it used against himself and Camelot so many times over the course of the series.
> 
> I promise this monster of an A/N is nearly over. I just want to say one more thing: This story is going to be a reimagining of the series, not a rewrite with subtle changes here and there. The entire story is going to change - how could it not - but I am going to try to do a chapter for each episode, incorporating what elements I can and creating new ones to fit the work as necessary to keep up the plot. That being said, I for the most part won't even be taking dialogue directly from the show even when I am writing any scenes that are similar. This is a reimagining, so I'm mostly borrowing elements from the episodes to form new stories, not completely rewriting every moment of them. Hopefully that makes sense!
> 
> I am so excited about where this story is going to go! I don't have a set update schedule in mind, but I have been dedicating at least an hour or more each night to writing, so I'd say updates will probably come pretty regularly. Please let me know your thoughts! :)
> 
> ~Emachinescat ^..^


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